


Everything Has Changed

by stelleshine



Series: The Ruby Universe [2]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Artist Michael, Cake (Background), Feelings, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mashton, Model Harry, Music Producer Ashton, Smut, Soccer Player Calum, Teacher Luke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-05-29 21:21:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 71,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6394309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelleshine/pseuds/stelleshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Clifford doesn't do commitment. He doesn't do feelings, or romance, and that's why casual sex works for him. Until he falls into bed with a man he knows too well, and spends all his time telling himself that it's nothing more than sex. </p><p>Except it's not, and Michael doesn't realize it until it's too late. </p><p>OR</p><p>The Mashton side piece to my Cake story 'Lay Me Down'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Michael Clifford wasn’t a complicated man.

In the grand scheme of the world, he wasn’t that hard to please, and as long as he had access to his favourite gaming consoles (he refused to pick a favourite), hair dye, paper and the expensive art pens he liked, he was happy. He wasn’t emotional and weird – that was Luke’s thing – and he sure as hell didn’t do romance.

But his one vice, and it was a struggle to admit, but he had _awful_ taste in men.

Case in point – Harry Styles.

Who was openly leering at him, eyes a little hooded, bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he was eye fucked to hell and back.

Michael knew he was bad news, had known that when they’d met five years ago on a sweaty dancefloor in a bar Michael had frequented far too often in his early twenties. But he couldn’t help himself, he was like a moth to Harry’s scorching hot flame.

Michael would never admit how easy he’d been, pressing a condom into Harry’s hand in the shitty public bathroom of the bar, unable to hold in his moans as he was roughly fucked into the grimy wall. Maybe that was the reason the Brit would always make contact whenever he was in Sydney – Michael was an extremely easy lay, and it wasn’t like he had to _try_ to get him into bed.

Michael offered it up all on his own.

It was what made him hesitate this time, Luke’s voice in the back of his head that told him how stupid he was to fall for Harry’s sweet nothings, yet again.

But it wasn’t like he was _sweet_. He’d just texted and asked to be picked up from the airport, the text message full of suggestive emojis and even though Michael _knew_ what he was getting himself into, he still dropped everything to shower and change into his tightest pair of black jeans before borrowing his dad’s car to fight his way through traffic to get to Sydney International Airport.

They’d ended up at the local pub, and Michael had watched Harry speed his way through a few pints of beers while Michael nursed just one, listening to the quick invective as Harry updated him on his mundane, cookie-cutter life.

He wasn’t interested, never really was, because the idea of gossiping about celebrities in the modelling world wasn’t his idea of a good time. There wasn’t much they had in common, really, apart from their enthusiastic sessions of sex.

Which Michael would much prefer to endure, rather than watching Harry down yet _another_ beer at two in the afternoon.

“Aren’t you tired?” Michael questioned, pushing away his remaining half glass of lukewarm beer, sitting back on his bar stool.

“Tired?” Harry parroted, taking a long sip from his glass.

“You know, the international flight?” Michael prompted. “You flew in from Dubai, right?”

Harry nodded, setting his empty glass down on the counter. “I slept almost the whole time,” he drawled, turning around to Michael to rest his hand on his thigh. “I’m actually feeling quite spritely.”

Michael had to look away, lest he let Harry’s deep, dark eyes reel him in any further.

“What do you say?” Harry murmured, leaning over towards him, his nose pressing against Michael’s jaw. “Bathroom? Car? Can’t wait for a bed.”

Michael cleared his throat, his thoughts blurred as the scent of Harry’s cologne overtook his senses. He wrapped his fingers around his wrist, squeezing gently. “I don’t really want to fuck in my dad’s car,” he murmured.

Harry laughed softly, his hand sliding further up Michael’s thigh. “So bathroom it is.”

Michael sighed, his hand pressing against the Brit’s solid chest, his fingertips meeting warm skin through the unbuttoned fabric of his shirt. “ _Not_ the bathroom,” Michael mumbled. “I’m not fucking you anywhere but my bed.”

“Oh bollocks,” Harry mumbled, letting out a soft laugh. “It was worth a try, right?”

Michael smirked, pressing his lips to Harry’s jaw. “You’re a piece of work, Styles.”

“Mhm,” Harry agreed. “ _Art_ work, if you’d like to get technical.”

Michael snorted. “Just because your half-naked body is hanging up in Times Square does _not_ make you art.”

“Oh, you wound me,” Harry groaned, his mouth moving against Michael’s neck as he spoke. “I like this side of you, Clifford.”

Michael felt his cheeks flush at the way his last name sounded coming out of Harry’s mouth. Like it was a curse word, almost, said with such salacious intent.

“So, about that bed?” Harry mumbled, and Michael was gone.

**

“Wait, wait, wait,” Michael breathed, his arms wrapped tight around Harry’s shoulders, pressing his face against his dark hair to stifle the moans threatening to break free.

“Wait?” Harry panted out, his hands cupping Michael’s behind, groaning softly into his neck as he bottomed out.

“Yes,” Michael hissed, letting his head fall back against his pillow, his knees framing Harry’s hips.

He tried to calm the desperate beat of his heart, tried to see if the sound of the front door being pushed open was in his head, or reality. It didn’t help that Harry wasn’t exactly doing as asked, his mouth dragging over Michael’s collarbone as he pushed him up the bed a little.

Michael groaned, fingers tangling in Harry’s long brown hair, sweat forming on his brow. His ears strained to hear, trying to see if his worst nightmare was coming true, and he was about to be busted by one of his parents, having sex with a guy they’d barely met, a guy who had to be reminded about _protection_ for fuck’s sake before he was rushing things along and pushing inside of Michael.

“C’mon,” Harry whined, hands framing Michael’s hips, rocking his own forward impatiently.

Michael couldn’t hear anything else; the tell-tale sound of his mother walking in her heels over the tiled floor of their kitchen, or the TV suddenly being turned on in the living room. It seemed as though his super-sensitive hearing was rearing its ugly head, and at the most inopportune time, too.

He hadn’t had sex in months – probably since Harry was last in town – and now it was hitting all the right spots and promising one hell of an orgasm, if he could just let go of his fear of being busted and give in to the impatient man inside him.

“Jesus, alright,” Michael grumbled, biting at Harry’s earlobe. “Just fuck me.”

“Best thing I’ve heard all day,” Harry drawled, gripping Michael’s hips tightly before pulling out, only to slam back in.

Michael exhaled in a rush, his head tipping back against his pillow as his eyes slid shut, tugging harshly at Harry’s hair, pulling his head in the direction of his neck, aching to feel his mouth against his skin.

Harry obliged, teeth raking over Michael’s neck as his movements strengthened, his hips snapping quickly, no time for niceties when they were both desperate for it.

It wasn’t the ideal situation, Michael knew that. He knew that pegging his hopes on a guy who had let him down countless times before was stupid, but for some reason, Michael was able to overlook his common sense when it came to Harry.

Especially when he was in town – in _him_ – and all his indiscretions seemed to disappear.

“Fuck,” Michael whispered, one arm still wrapped tightly around Harry’s shoulders, the other reaching up to grip at his headboard to keep Harry from slamming his head into it.

The Brit manhandled him roughly, gripping his hips so hard there would be bruises, and didn’t ease into a rhythm, just took what he wanted, thrusting sharply inside of Michael. The younger man couldn’t help but crave it, like Harry was a drug that he was desperate to have running through his veins.

“You’re so fucking hot for me,” Harry groaned, his teeth still scraping over Michael’s neck, his grip moving from his hips to his ass, and Michael didn’t have the energy to disagree.

He just rolled his hips, taking too much, making it hurt. The wincing still felt good, the desperate thrusts causing pleasure to scatter through his entire body.

“Shut,” Michael panted, groaning softly as Harry slammed into him. “S-shut the fuck up,” he groaned.

Harry laughed, his voice hoarse. “You shut the fuck up,” he growled out, hands pinning Michael’s shoulders to the bed. “Or I’ll make you take it hard bent over your desk.”

Michael whimpered, his eyes pressed shut as his brain conjured up images of just what _that_ would look like.

Harry laughed, low and threatening. “Oh, you like that?” he mumbled, hands closing tightly over Michael’s shoulders, slamming harder inside of him. “You bent over, your ass in the air for me? Let me take you as hard as I want?”

Michael wanted to tell him to _shut up_ , that it wasn’t helping his desperate need to come, and if he didn’t shut his sinful lips, Michael was going to arrive sharply at his destination, a lot sooner than he wanted to.

“So easy,” Harry cooed, straightening up and taking his body heat away from Michael to grip his hips, pulling Michael back to meet every rough thrust.

Michael cried out, hands falling to the sheets and tugging, trying to get away from the constant sharp pleasure, but found the want was unfounded. He wanted _more_ , wanted exactly what Harry knew how to give.

He loosened one hand to take hold of his erection, quickly jerking himself off, giving himself over to the fact he was going to come way too soon.

It had been too long, and Harry was just too damn _good_.

And he knew it, too.

“That’s it,” he praised softly, his voice like warm honey as he tipped his head back and shook his hair off his face. “Want you to come with me still fucking you, yeah?”

Michael whimpered, crushing his eyes shut for a moment. Sometimes he wished Harry would _shut up_ , that Michael was desperately busy being fucked into next week and the sound of his wrecked voice wasn’t do anything to _help_ him, dammit.

“Come on my dick,” Harry demanded, tugging him back sharply. “Tell me how much you want it.”

Michael bit down on his bottom lip harshly, not wanting to give into Harry’s demands. He already felt exposed enough, the last thing he needed to do was run his mouth on just how much he wanted it.

But if he was being honest, he was rendered mute by the sharp, hard thrusts Harry was giving him, pinning him to the bed but tugging his hips up sharply to meet every rough movement. It had been long enough for Michael that it _hurt_ , just a little, but he needed it like he needed air.

“Fuck,” Harry grunted out, balancing on his knees and tugging Michael back sharply.

Michael crushed his eyes shut, unable to stare up at the man above him, sweat clinging to his chest and his dark hair damp at his forehead. He just rolled his hips against Harry’s thrusts, hands curled in the sheets as he desperately tried to hold off from touching himself.

“C’mon, love,” Harry murmured, his nails dragging down Michael’s pale thighs. “Got you, wanna see you let go.”

Michael arched his back off the bed slowly, letting out soft exhales as he felt the pleasure curl through him slowly, punching his orgasm out of him in strong, constant pulses over his abdomen.

The muscles of his thighs cramped and his vision had gone black and the harsh way Harry kept fucking him, not giving him a single second of reprieve made him whimper, and then let out a dirty groan as the other man’s hips stuttered forward one last time before he was coming, rough pants falling from his mouth.

Michael caught him easily as he fell, wincing as Harry pulled out and collapsed against him heavily, his face pressing into Michael’s neck.

They never talked about the clinginess they both felt after sex, tangling together tightly sharing soft, open mouthed kisses. Michael wouldn’t admit that maybe that part – the actual _intimacy_ – was what he loved most.

“I missed you,” Harry mumbled against his mouth.

“Missed you too,” Michael panted softly.

Harry pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth before rolling away and sitting up, dealing with the used condom, dropping it to the carpet once he’d tied a knot in it.

Michael bit down on his lip, unable to keep Luke out of his head. “Hey, so. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Harry threw a look over his shoulder before laying back down beside Michael, tugging the sheet up to their waists. “That sounds serious,” he smirked.

Michael smiled, stroking his palm down Harry’s chest. “My friend, Luke? His parents are having a barbeque on Saturday night, because Luke’s brother and his wife just had a baby and they’re having like a small celebration thing.”

“Yeah?” Harry smiled. “That sounds lovely. I love babies.”

Michael’s lips pursed as Harry accepted an invitation he didn’t think he’d extended. “I know that it’s probably not your thing,” he said slowly.

“A barbeque and a baby? That couldn’t be any more up my alley.”

Michael chewed on his bottom lip, wondering if there was any way to _un_ invite Harry.

“Fancy a shower?” the Brit offered, running a hand through his hair. “Could use a freshen up before round two.”

Michael’s cheeks heated up, and while he tried to believe he was strong enough to maybe resist his charm, he knew that there was no way he’d be able to resist the other man.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh God,” Michael bit down on his bottom lip, his hands tugging sharply at Harry’s hair as he fought the urge to buck his hips up, to press his erection further down the other  man’s throat.

Harry’s fingernails dug into his thighs, forcing Michael’s legs open further where he sat on his couch, pants pulled down to his knees.

Michael knew he had to be quiet; knew it in the way he could hear a football match on TV in the living room, could hear his dad disagreeing with every call the referee made. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself, but Harry’s mouth was doing everything to drag sinful moans and gasps out of him, and he was powerless to stop it.

“I’m close,” Michael whimpered softly, his head falling back against the couch, slouching down a little further as Harry’s tongue pressed against him, the soft, wet sucking sounds of his mouth pushing Michael even closer to his end.

They’d spent most of the day in bed, avoiding Michael’s parents and fooling around. But he’d finally managed to fend off Harry’s advances, sitting down and trying to get some work done for his upcoming deadline, but the Brit had quickly quashed that and had grinded on him until Michael was desperately hard and begging for his mouth.

“Harry, _shit_ ,” Michael whispered, tugging sharply at his hair. “M’coming, Jesus Christ.”

Michael felt it start, deep and warm in his stomach, and his orgasm quickly punched through him, breath catching in his throat and fingernails reefing at Harry’s hair so much the other man dug his nails into the soft flesh of his thighs.

Michael was apologetic for half a second, but then he was spilling into his mouth, his body trembling and toes curling, letting out a deep, satisfied sigh.

“Jesus,” Harry muttered, pulling off messily, spilling some of Michael’s come down his chin. “Easy on the hair, yeah? I’m kinda known for it.”

Michael lifted his head up off the back of the couch, his eyes glassy as he tried to focus on the man between his legs. He could vaguely register him speaking, but for the life of him, couldn’t decipher _what_ he was saying.

He was just kneeling there, hair wild and lips red, Michael’s come on his chin and he looked like an angel – a _filthy_ , devilish angel.

“C’mere,” Michael called, hand sliding down the side of Harry’s face, grabbing his chin gently and pulled him forward so Michael’s tongue could slide over the mess on his chin before licking into his mouth, giving him a slow, sultry kiss.

Harry groaned, hands still on Michael’s thighs, leaning into the kiss eagerly.

“You’re incredible,” Michael mumbled against his lips, sliding his fingers into his hair.

“Not so bad yourself,” Harry replied huskily, voice wrecked and gravelly.

Michael smiled, running his thumb over Harry’s chin, sitting back in his seat and his eyes wandering from Harry’s face to the clock on the wall. “It’s seven.”

Harry nuzzled his face into Michael’s stomach, fingers slipping up underneath his t-shirt. “It is?”

Michael blinked, tilting his head. “It’s Saturday, yeah?”

“Mhm,” Harry confirmed softly.

“Shit!” Michael groaned as realization dawned on him that they were most definitely _late_ to the Hemmings barbeque. “Get up,” he hissed. “We’re late.”

“Late?” Harry drawled, sitting back on his heels.

Michael rolled his eyes. “ _Yes_ ,” he stressed. “That barbeque I mentioned the other day? It started almost two hours ago.”

“Oh bollocks,” Harry mumbled. “We can give it a pass, then? Spend some time alone?”

“I can’t,” Michael sighed. “I can’t not show up, alright? Luke asked, and Ashton is going to be there and I haven’t seen him in ages. You can stay here, if you like? I’ll make an appearance.”

Harry pursed his lips and considered the suggestion. “No, I’ll come. There’s nothing to do here if you’re not with me.”

Michael smiled, pulling his boxers and skinny jeans on before leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the other man’s lips. “You sure?”

“Definitely,” Harry assured him, rubbing his thighs. “Might freshen up though?”

“Alright,” Michael agreed, unable to resist pressing a few more lazy kisses to his lips.

Harry chuckled, biting at Michael’s chin before pulling away and getting up off the floor, leaving the other man with a stupid smile on his face.

**

The closer Michael and Harry got to the Hemmings’ house, the more anxious Michael felt. Despite the warm hand on his thigh, and Harry’s rough, deep voice singing along to a song on the radio, he felt like showing up at the barbeque with him would cross some sort of line.

He knew his friends weren’t fans of Harry, and _maybe_ they had a reason not to be, but things felt different this time. Harry had been by his side since the moment he’d landed in the country, and despite having to work on Sunday, Michael almost felt like the only reason Harry was in Sydney, was because of him.

And that made warmth slide through his stomach, made his lips quirk into a soft, happy smile.

But the other man’s track record wasn’t good, and Michael managed to anticipate every single possible reaction as he drove, and had decided on the worst possible one as he rolled to a stop in the driveway.

“You’re kind of tense,” Harry commented, squeezing his thigh gently. “You okay?”

Michael looked over at him, at his tousled hair and mostly-unbuttoned shirt and he _looked_ like the kind of guy Luke thought he was; sleazy, cocky, _promiscuous_.

But his smile was genuine, and when he leant in for a soft kiss, Michael’s heart soared.

“C’mon, I’m hungry,” the man murmured. “If we stay here any longer, I’m going to eat _you_.”

Michael laughed, easing his key out of the ignition and opened the car door, stepping out into the cool, evening breeze.

Harry followed suit, and even took Michael’s hand as they walked up to the front door, and Michael had almost completely forgot about his friends until the porch light was turned on, and he saw Luke’s surprised face through the screen.

“You’re late,” Luke commented flatly.

Michael felt Harry’s hand on his hip, and his cheeks flushed. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I’m really sorry. I-uh-we-“

“Got distracted,” Harry filled in, a cocky smirk on his face.

Michael crushed his eyes shut momentarily, knowing exactly what thoughts would be flashing through Luke’s mind.

“We can go,” he offered, almost hoping Luke would agree, that he could tug Harry away and reclaim some of his dignity.

“Don’t be silly,” Luke insisted and unlocked the door, pressing it open for Michael and Harry.

“Thanks,” Michael smiled, putting some distance between himself and the Brit, stepping inside as Harry followed and reached for his hand again.

Michael saw the way Luke’s eyebrows raised, and could almost hear the judgement rolling off of him in waves. He kept his head down, his fingers tangled with Harry’s as Luke announced their arrival in a lacklustre voice.

“Hey,” Michael said, greeting everyone collectively, waving his hand nervously through the air. “This is Harry.”

Liz greeted him with a hug, as always, and he collapsed into her arms for just a second, stealing the comfort she always willingly gave. She even extended the same greeting to Harry, and he politely pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Grab a plate,” she insisted.

Michael said a quick hello to the rest of the Hemmings’ family, and shook Ben’s hand and gave him a congratulatory hug before pressing a kiss to Sarah’s cheek.

He still felt awkward when he approached his friends, choosing instead to put on a ridiculous baby voice when saying hello to Ruby, who was snug against Calum’s chest and peacefully asleep.

He was grateful when Liz handed both him and Harry a paper plate, and they picked and chose from the abundance of salads and grilled meat before grabbing a drink and scoped out a place to sit.

“Tomato, right?”

Michael blinked over at Harry, who was extending the sauce bottle towards him. “What?”

Harry grinned. “You prefer tomato, right?”

Michael felt his cheeks heat and nodded his head, squeezing a small puddle of sauce onto his plate before grabbing a handful of napkins for them both, taking a seat at the picnic table beside Luke.

“You still want me to speak to your year eight’s?” Michael offered to his friend, setting his plate down.

“You’re doing a speech?” Harry asked, a smile on his face. “Aren’t you clever?”

Michael’s cheeks blushed red. “It’s no big deal. Just for Luke’s year eight creative writing class.”

“It is a big deal,” Harry insisted, setting down his plastic cutlery. “I’m impressed.”

Michael looked away, unable to hold eye contact with the other man, not when things felt so surreal and _right_.

He instead turned his attention back to his friend. “Luke?” he prompted.

“Oh,” Luke mumbled, blinking at Michael. “Yeah, please. Let me know when you’re free.”

“All the time,” Michael grinned.

“After this week,” Harry amended.

That was news to Michael, and he opened his mouth to question him further, when Ashton spoke.

“You’re staying in town?”

Harry smiled, nodding his head as he helped himself to some potato salad on his plate. “I extended my trip a few days to spend time with Michael.”

He could feel the warmth inside him start to spread, trying not to get too wrapped up in the idea that maybe things really _were_ different this time.

“That’s nice,” Ashton said tightly.

“Ash,” Michael sighed softly, eyes soft and pleading when he looked at his friend.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ashton snapped, getting up from his seat to head inside.

The conversation continued around them, and Michael was all too happy to get lost in his meal – and _not_ with Ashton’s pissy attitude – shovelling tender pieces of steak into his mouth, intermixed with Liz’s famous homemade coleslaw.

“You’ve got a little,” Harry mumbled through his mouthful, gesturing to his face.

“What?” Michael frowned.

Harry smirked, swallowing his food and leant in, pressing his tongue to the corner of Michael’s mouth.

Michael felt his body heat up, and he gently pushed the other man away. “Jesus.”

“What?” Harry asked innocently. “You had a little sauce.”

“That’s what _napkins_ are for,” Michael teased, and had to pull his attention away from the other man, lest he embarrass himself in front of his friends.

Harry ran his palm up Michael’s back, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

“Stooop,” Michael whined softly, his hand resting on Harry’s thigh under the table. “You’re making me blush.”

“I noticed,” Harry murmured softly. “It’s adorable.”

Michael rolled his eyes, leaning into Harry’s side, and speared a piece of potato on his plate.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy you guys are loving this! I know there's not a whole lot of Mashton happening (I love Michael/Harry sooo much!) but don't worry, it will come!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read, subscribed and left kudos, and super special thanks to everybodyismoche, thominhoplease, Wizardofoz, dreamforlife, asocialreader, Skagger, KellyWoods, Coco_Decon, horanswillie, daisy_maus, ashtonirwrn & shutupluke for their comments!
> 
> xoxo


	3. Chapter 3

“Stop fussing.”

Michael made a soft noise of protest, his hands dropping from his hair at Harry’s insistence. It wasn’t like the other man had much to worry about, he could’ve shown up to the magazine party in a trash bag and the photographers would’ve still gone nuts.

Instead of a trash bag, Harry was perfectly styled in tight black skinny jeans, and a sheer shirt – a _blouse_ , Michael thought – unbuttoned to his belly button and loosely tucked into the top of his pants. He wore glittery gold boots and a few long necklaces, his dark hair spilling over his shoulders.

He looked _beautiful_ , and Michael wasn’t sure if he’d ever considered a man to be beautiful before. But there was a first time for everything, and Harry was more than deserving of the title.

Michael himself felt frumpy, even though he was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans himself and his favourite worn-but-edgy t-shirt, topped off with a leather jacket he’d bought when he was a lot younger, and a lot more stupid. It wasn’t so much what he was wearing, but it was _him_. It had to be obvious to every elite model, editor and publisher at the party that he was a nobody; only someone to pay attention to because Harry Styles himself had snuck a few fingers into his back pocket and refused to step away from Michael to have his picture taken.

Maybe it was the black eyeliner Harry had encouraged him to wear, his unpractised hand making it look far smokier than it used to, or the fact that Harry kept pressing kisses to his cheek and jaw, making it very clear that they were _together_.

Michael just didn’t _do_ networking parties. He always hung in the background whenever Ashton had managed to get them tickets to some industry party, much preferring to take advantage of the open bar, and pretentious tiny food that circled the room in waves.

All he could see were camera flashes, and large cut outs and magazine covers that all showcased the man he was with, and it wasn’t the first time Michael had realized that Harry was kind of a big deal. At the beginning, it had been mostly ego – his insistence that he was important that Michael would scoff at – but now it was obvious that the man who had his hand on Michael’s ass was _famous_ , and that could only spell disaster.

“Smile,” Harry whispered softly in his ear, hand squeezing his ass gently, shuffling them down the green carpet to the next wave of photographers calling his name.

Michael let out a soft breath, trying not to blink manically against the flashes that went off, and ignored shouts of photographs screaming _just you on your own, Harry!_

He was more than prepared to step aside, to shrink into the shadows so Harry could have his moment, but every time he tried, Harry would tut a soft _uh uh_ under his breath, and Michael’s knees would weaken and he’d have to remember to have Harry say the same thing to him later that night, when they’d inevitably end up in bed together once the camera flashes had faded from their memory.

“This is so weird,” Michael murmured softly.

Harry bowed his head toward him, lips brushing his cheek. “You’re doing great,” he drawled softly, hand sliding to squeeze Michael’s hip. “Such a good boy, hm?”

Michael swallowed, starting to feel a little dizzy. He chalked that up to the man beside him, the man who was so _sure_ of himself, and so _sure_ that Michael was _good_. It made his stomach drop and his mouth go dry.

“Just a few more,” Harry murmured.

Michael was relieved as they were nearing the end of the carpet, and he could almost taste the harsh liquor on his tongue as he tried to find which direction the bar was in, needing to take the edge off before the next wave of journalists wanted a piece of Harry.

When they finally stepped off the carpet, Harry was pushing him sharply, his feet stumbling over the ground as they found themselves behind one of the massive seven-foot-high posters of Harry’s magazine cover, and Michael was about to snap at him, wondering how many ravenous photographers got a picture of him tripping, before the Brit had him pressed up against the side of the building, and pressed their mouths together in a bruising kiss.

“Jesus,” Harry groaned, his fingers sliding up under Michael’s t-shirt to grope over his hips. “You’ve got no idea how good you look.”

Michael was surprised, and fairly certain that was a line _he_ should be saying, not Harry. He was the man of the hour, after all. But instead, it was Michael who was being groped, who was being _kissed_. And the fact that they were only ten feet away from twenty photographers, members of the press, and radio journalists only made his fingers tingle, curling in the pretentious fabric of Harry’s shirt to pull him in more, tongue pressing into his mouth.

“Where _is_ he?”

Michael pulled away from the kiss at the sound of a woman’s voice, so close she _had_ to be on the other side of the poster.

“You know Harry,” a second woman muttered. “Probably feeling up an underage waiter.”

“It’s like babysitting, honestly,” the first woman sighed.

Harry had a grin on his face, pressing his index finger to his lips. “My agent,” he whispered, dotting a few kisses up Michael’s jaw.

Michael pushed at him weakly. “We should go,” he whispered. “Before they start looking.”

“No bother,” Harry mumbled. “Jane is quite skilled in the art of hide and seek. She’ll go for the ballroom first.”

Michael’s heart was in his throat, one hundred percent certain he did _not_ want to be caught making out with Harry by some woman he’d never met.

“Stop,” Michael whined softly. “Jesus, Harry.”

Harry smirked, running his thumb over Michael’s red bottom lip. “Alright,” he relented softly. “Though you do realize when we materialize from behind this giant poster of my face, people will know what we were doing behind it.”

Michael tugged at the hem of his t-shirt and pushed Harry’s hands away. “And why’s that?”

Harry hooked a piece of his hair behind his ear. “Your mouth,” he whispered. “So red and pretty.”

Michael flushed, pressing his hand against Harry’s chest. “Then you go first,” he demanded. “I’ll duck inside after. Meet you at the bar.”

Harry smirked, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to Michael’s lips. “You got it.”

Michael watched him straighten his shirt and run a hand through his hair before he disappeared, roping the two women waiting for him into a conversation before leading them away from their hiding spot.

Michael sagged back against the wall and sucked in a slow breath, running his fingers over his bottom lip. He was sure that the other man would be the death of him, but he was unable to deny the chemistry between them. It seemed so much more tangible this time, and while Michael wasn’t one to get his hopes up, he felt good.

It all felt good.

**

“There you are.”

Michael took a sip from his glass of rum and coke, and smiled at the Brit who appeared at his side. “You couldn’t have looked too hard, I’ve been here the whole night.”

Harry smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of Michael’s mouth. “Sorry about that. Had to do a few interviews, take a few pictures.”

“It’s fine,” Michael smiled, reaching out to pull Harry closer by his shirt. “You’re here now.”

“Indeed,” Harry confirmed softly. “Are you having a nice time?”

Michael was, surprisingly.

He’d eaten his weight in sushi and salmon puffs and had put away a few rum and coke’s to last him all night. He’d talked to a few people who gushed over Harry, and he hadn’t hesitated to smile and agree. It was completely surreal and while Michael didn’t really feel like he belonged, it was something he could get used to.

“I met your agent-slash-babysitter,” Michael teased. “She’s actually kind of nice. You should pay her more.”

“Oh should I?” Harry drawled, easing himself onto a barstool beside Michael. “And what do I base that on? My boyfriend’s sterling expertise?”

Michael’s smile dropped, and so did the conversation. He was stuck on that word, the word they’d never, _ever_ said, and now it was hanging between them.

“Breathe,” Harry smiled.

Michael blinked, coming back into the moment and felt his cheeks flare. “Jeez, do you really need to bust my balls over this?”

“Oh indeed,” Harry confirmed, his hand resting on Michael’s thigh. “Unless you don’t feel the same, of course.”

“I do,” Michael said quickly, his fingers circling Harry’s wrist, squeezing gently. “It’s good, I like it.”

Harry smiled. “Marvellous. Now that that’s sorted, come and meet a few lads.”

“Lads?”  Michael questioned, looking over his shoulder. “There are more like _you_?”

Harry laughed softly, sliding off his seat. “Believe it or not, I am not a dying breed, unfortunately.”

Michael followed his movements, curling their fingers together. “You’re one of a kind to me.”

Harry leant in and kissed him, his hand cupping Michael’s jaw and the younger man felt the floor drop out from under his feet. He curled his hands over Harry’s forearms, holding on for dear life.

“Lads,” Harry murmured as he pulled out of the kiss, running his thumb over Michael’s bottom lip. “Then I’ll take you home.”

Michael nodded, his eyelashes fluttering just slightly as Harry made him feel like he was the only person in the room.

**

“Comfy?”

Michael was half-asleep, curled tightly against Harry’s bare chest, the damp ends of the other man’s hair tickling his forehead. “M’good.”

Harry ran his hand down Michael’s back, pulling him closer. “I had a really great time with you tonight,” he mumbled.

“You mean last night,” Michael smiled.

They’d gotten home at close to three am, and had stumbled into the shower and kept their voices down as they both touched each other to their electric end, letting the water wash away the evidence of their passion.

Michael had been more than ready for bed once they were dry, curling up close with the other man.

“Last night, tonight,” Harry mumbled. “Doesn’t matter. I’m glad to have been with you.”

Michael pressed soft, gentle kisses to the other man’s collarbones, mouth moving lower over the swallows inked into his skin. His fingers moved from Harry’s hip around to his back, settling in with a soft sigh.

“You’re quiet,” the other man mumbled.

Michael smiled. “Tired.”

“Mhm,” Harry mumbled. “Thinking about Thursday?”

Michael felt sick at the mention, and he’d been unable to shake his thoughts about Harry leaving. Not when things were this good, not when he felt like they were falling headfirst into something incredibly awesome.

“How long until you’re back?”

“Mhm, hard to tell,” Harry said softly. “A few months maybe?”

Michael bit down on his bottom lip, and refrained from pouting. He knew that this was a condition when he’d met Harry, that he was barely in one place for very long, and when he was, he was usually too busy to sit, let alone make plans.

But things always seemed to stop when Harry was in Sydney. He’d crash with Michael and they’d share a few incredible days together before he was gone again, and Michael hated that he was starting to get clingy, that the idea of Harry leaving made his heart hurt.

“Still plenty of time before I have to go,” Harry mumbled, rubbing his hand down Michael’s back. “Don’t need to worry just yet.”

Michael sighed, letting his eyes fall shut and tried to push the certain end to whatever they were, out of his mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I really love Michael/Harry. I think that's why I work it into most of my stories. There always needs to be a background moment between them! Oh, maybe I should write a strictly Harry/Michael story?! (Not that I don't have enough projects going at once!)
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading, subscribing and leaving kudos. And super special thanks to everybodyismoche, shutupluke, Coco_Decon, thominhoplease, fluffypsychopaths, asocialreader & Wizardofoz for their comments!
> 
> xoxo


	4. Chapter 4

“So where to now?”

Harry’s lips ghosted over Michael’s cheek, their hands joined between them. “Back home for a week, and then London for a few.”

Michael sighed, his forehead pressed to Harry’s as they stood at the gate, waiting for Harry’s flight to be called.

Michael didn’t like the feeling he had inside him, the harsh pull on his heart that confused him. He’d never felt this way before, and he wasn’t sure if it was signs of a stroke, or if he was in… _like_ with Harry.

“We can text, yeah?” Harry mumbled. “Call when we can.”

“I know,” Michael said softly, eyes focused on the light freckle by Harry’s mouth. “Do you ever get tired?”

“Tired?”

“Of the travelling, the moving around?”

“Sometimes,” Harry mumbled. “It’d be nice to stay still for a month or so.”

“Do you ever think about maybe…staying _here_?” His voice betrayed his anxiety, and he let his eyes fall shut.

“You want me to stay?” Harry teased softly, letting go of one of Michael’s hands to cup his cheek. “That’s sweet, baby.”

“I’m serious,” Michael whispered. “Don’t you feel it?”

Harry pulled away, straightening up slightly. “I can’t stay,” he said distantly.

“I know,” Michael mumbled, pulling his hand out of the other man’s grasp. “I’m just saying.”

Harry put a hand on his shoulder, moving it slowly to his neck before he was pulling him in against his chest, pressing a kiss to his hair. “I care about you a lot,” He mumbled.

Michael stayed quiet, his fingers tugging gently at the soft cotton of Harry’s white t-shirt. “You’ve said that before.”

Harry let out a somewhat annoyed sigh. “Look, I’m not perfect,” he muttered. “I’m never going to be what you want me to be.”

“What, faithful?” Michael snorted.

“Oh bloody hell,” Harry muttered. “Is this going to be how we leave it?”

“No,” Michael said softly, watching as the other man ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

Harry sighed. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

Michael pulled him in, wrapping his arms around his waist. “At least tell me you’ll miss me.”

Harry smiled, his hands rubbing down Michael’s back slowly. “Of course I will.”

Michael pressed a kiss to his lips, feeling the same strange tug in his chest. Harry pulled him in, kissing him softly and slowly, even as the loudspeaker crackled to life and announced his flight.

“I have to go.”

Michael brushed their lips together again, and didn’t want to let go. “Will you text me when you land? Stopover in Singapore, right?”

Harry cupped his cheeks, pressing short, soft kisses to his lips. “I will,” he promised. “I’ll even call, how about that?”

Michael smiled. “You better.”

Harry kissed him again, their lips lingering. “I will,” he mumbled. “But I really do have to go.”

Michael pulled away and sighed. “Yeah, okay.”

Harry smiled, picking up his carryon luggage that was at their feet. “I’ll talk to you soon, and I’ll try and get back before Christmas, yeah?”

“Christmas?” Michael pouted. “Try and come back three times before Christmas.”

Harry smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

They parted with another soft kiss, and Michael watched him walk away, handing over his boarding pass and then walking down the hall to the plane. Michael felt cold when he couldn’t see him anymore, his arms wrapping around himself as disappointment settled in his gut.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but there was part of him that was hoping for more than just a goodbye. Especially since things had seemed to change, that they were in a relationship of sorts, at least. Even though Michael knew he wasn’t ready to say those three little words, he’d been needy enough to want to hear them from Harry.

He stayed until the plane taxied away from the gate, until it was a dot on the runway, and then taking off and taking Harry away.

**

Michael thought calling Luke on the way back to his place would be a good idea. He thought hearing his friend’s voice would maybe ease some of the melancholy he’d felt since leaving the airport, but apparently, he was _wrong_.

And if Michael was gracious enough to admit it, he was maybe a little _too_ defensive when it came to the topic of his boyfriend. And _maybe_ he jumped down Luke’s throat a little prematurely, but seriously.

Fuck Luke.

At least that was what Michael was repeating over and over in his head as he drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel along to a vicious guitar solo by none other than Billie Joe Armstrong. _American Idiot_ blasted from the speakers, and the longer the music ran through him, the more his anger started to fade.

He missed Harry.

And he _hated_ it.

He never wanted to be an emotional type of person, at least not when it came to relationships. That was Luke’s thing; getting attached and investing in things that had no future. Michael wasn’t like that, he never really formed strong emotional connections to people he dated or slept with, and the fact he was _now_ doing exactly that, got under his skin.

He knew it was Harry’s fault, it always was. Michael always folded whenever he called, always looked over his indiscretions for just another few days with him. It was so weak, and it made Michael want to have a drink or two to forget.

But he had a deadline – one that he’d been pushing aside while Harry had been in town – and he knew his agent would jump down his throat the moment he was one minute over.

It was another thing to hate, really. That Michael would push something aside that meant the world to him, for a _guy_.

With an annoyed sigh, he cranked the stereo louder, and headed home.

**

“Wait, wait, wait! Let me get my phone!” Michael crowed, shoving is hand into the tight pocket of his skinny jeans for the device, as his best friend glared at him.

“Fuck you very much,” Calum almost growled, fumbling on his crutches as he eased himself onto a bar stool.

Michael grinned mirthlessly, motioning to the bartender for two beers. “What the hell happened, man? Luke been getting freaky in the bedroom?”

Calum sighed, leaning the crutches up against the bar as he awkwardly swung his injured leg around. “For your information, _no_ ,” Calum said pointedly. “I took a dive last Friday during a game,” he sighed.

“Ouch,” Michael smirked. “So is the good teacher taking care of you, then? Blowjobs and walking around in a little French maid uniform?”

Calum punched him weakly. “It’s been hell, thank you very much. I’m staying at his place and he’s running ragged for me.”

“And you fucking love it,” Michael insisted.

Calum cracked a smile. “Maybe I do. Only because he’s so good at it, you know? Making me coffee and snuggling and being all concerned and shit. I’m a massive pain in the butt, but he’s just sweet to me.”

Michael rolled his eyes, and tried not to feel jealousy swirl through his stomach. He hadn’t spoken to Luke since their fight, and if Michael was being honest, he was afraid to pick up the phone, afraid to admit he’d been wrong. It wasn’t in his nature to take responsibility, and he didn’t want to be forced into it, and his blue-eyed friend was most certainly good at drawing it out of him.

“I know you didn’t ask me out for a beer to talk about Luke,” Calum pointed out, handing over a ten dollar note when their drinks were set in front of them. “And I’m sure you didn’t ask so I would _pay_ ,” he said pointedly.

Michael breezed past the insinuation with a grin, and took a sip from his beer. “You’re right, I didn’t call you up to talk about Luke.”

“Though we probably should,” Calum pointed out. “Because he was really upset about the fight you two had.”

Michael sighed. “It is what it is. We’ll figure it out and things will be fine again.”

“Yeah, but when?” Calum asked.

Michael sighed again, wrinkling his nose in annoyance. “When I get over it, sheesh.”

Calum smiled, taking a drink from his bottle. “So, why else then? If it’s not to talk about Luke?”

“I can’t call up my best bro and ask him for a beer?” Michael demanded, his hand pressed to his chest in feigned shock.

Calum rolled his eyes. “Of course you can. But it’s usually beers at your place, and you don’t wear pants.”

Michael smiled ruefully, taking another sip from his beer. He would admit that his request was a little out of the ordinary, but he’d immersed himself in his work for the last week, and he’d felt guilty when he’d seen on Facebook that Calum had done his knee.

So he’d needed to head into the city for a meeting with his independent publisher, and had decided to hit two birds with one stone, inviting Calum out for a late afternoon beer at their favourite local pub.

“I’ve missed you,” Michael shrugged. “You’ve been so far up Luke’s ass I haven’t had the chance to catch up.”

“Really? How much longer are you going to bust my balls about Luke, huh? Another few months, a year? Ten years?”

“You think you two will still be together in ten years?” Michael blurted out.

Calum frowned. “You _don’t_?”

Michael picked at the label on his bottle of beer, and avoided Calum’s eyes. “I don’t know, man. I’m sure you will, but you gotta understand…you and him are all together now. There’s not much you-and-me happening anymore.”

“Awww,” Calum cooed softly. “You miss me?”

Michael kicked at his uninjured leg gently. “It used to be you and me, and Ash and Luke. Now it’s all fucked up.”

Calum smiled. “It’s always you and me, bro. Just like it’ll always be Luke and Ash. Even though me and Luke are together, it doesn’t change us.”

Michael sighed, wrinkling his nose. “Jesus, I didn’t invite you out for a drink to talk about my _feelings_.”

Calum snorted. “Kinda sounds like it, man.”

Michael rolled his eyes and took another drink from his beer. “So what else is up with you? Apart from the injury and getting worshipped by your boyfriend.”

“Nothing,” Calum admitted with a shrug. “Things have been kind of slow because I’m not training. Mostly just physio, and sitting on the sidelines. But hey, Luke and I are going to babysit Ruby weekend after next.”

Michael laughed. “Wow, good luck with that. It’ll be your crash course into parenting, and your crash course on Luke.”

“It’ll be fine,” Calum insisted. “He’s really excited and he’s incredible with her. You’d be proud.”

Michael didn’t want to steer the conversation back to Luke, so he cleared his throat. “So, I’m off the market.”

Calum raised a brow. “Explain.”

Michael could feel his cheeks flush. “Well, last time with Harry went really well, and we’ve been talking like, every day, and Skyping when we can.”

“That’s great,” Calum smiled warmly. “That is great, right?”

Michael nodded quickly. “Yeah, great. Super great, even. He’s a changed man, and I’m glad I never gave up on him, you know? Like the rest of you wanted me to.”

“Hey,” Calum cautioned softly. “We were never against him until he treated you like shit. But it’s your life, and I would never tell you who you can and can’t date.”

“Right,” Michael nodded. “That’s Ashton and Luke’s domain.”

“It comes from love,” the other man insisted. “We all want you to be happy, and if you’re happy with Harry, then so are we.”

Michael rolled his eyes. He appreciated the effort, he did. And he hated how much he’d wanted to hear those words, especially from Calum. Despite his rejection of approval, he so desperately craved it from his friends.

“When’s he coming back?”

“Soon, I hope,” Michael nodded. “In the next few months, hopefully.”

Calum smiled. “Are you in love, Mikey?”

Michael’s cheeks burned hot, and he looked down at his drink. “No,” he said, though it sounded weak to his ears. “I’m nothing. Shut up.”

Calum laughed, nudging him with his elbow. “You know there’s nothing wrong with that, right? That falling in love is a perfectly acceptable life goal.”

“Yeah, but I’m just not that guy,” Michael insisted. “I don’t want to pin all my hopes and dreams on this one guy, like you and Luke.”

Calum frowned. “Why does that always sound like an insult? _Like you and Luke_? Like we’re…weak or something, for acknowledging our feelings for each other?”

“No,” Michael sighed. “It’s not like that – fuck. It’s like, Luke operates with his heart, yeah? We saw that with Jason, and the few guys he dated after that. He’s an all-in, heart on his sleeve shtick.”

“And?”

“And you’re kind of the same, but not as open, I guess. You love who you love and you’re unapologetic. I’m just not like that. Love doesn’t make sense to me. Why pick one person to love – hopefully for the rest of your life – and ignore all the other possibilities in life? Just because you love someone _right now_ doesn’t mean you’ll love them forever.”

Calum frowned. “You’re awfully fucking jaded considering you’ve come from a happy, loving home with two parents who have a great marriage.”

Michael smiled ruefully. “I guess something else fucked me up, then.”

“Michael, if you love Harry, love Harry. If you don’t love him, that’s cool too. But don’t hide behind this idea that love is bullshit, alright? Because you’ll burn yourself sooner rather than later.”

Michael sighed. “Alright, this got a lot deeper than I thought it would. Can we go back to talking about your jacked up knee?”

He managed to fall into a light-hearted conversation with Calum about the ins and outs of an MRI, and just what torn ligaments meant.

And if Michael was only half listening because he was thinking about Harry, then Calum didn’t have to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so short! One of those necessary filler chapters! But I promise, the next one is super long, and full of action!
> 
> Thank you to everyone reading, subscribing and leaving kudos, and extra big thanks to shutupluke, Skagger, DrunkOnDrarry, wynw00d & fluffypsychopaths for their wonderful comments!!
> 
> xoxo


	5. Chapter 5

Michael would never, _ever_ admit to watching E News Live.

Even if it was a life or death decision, Michael would go to the grave with his guilty pleasure secret. But, he reasoned, it wasn’t like he watched it _all the time_. No, he’d usually only have it playing in the background when he worked, and of course he’d rush to change the channel if he heard a knock at his door, not willing to face the teasing ridicule from his good-natured mum, or the shameless mocking of his father.

Michael only watched it for one reason, of course.

Harry.

Especially now that their phone and skype calls were drifting further and further apart now that Harry was in Dubai, after a stint in LA. Michael understood, of course, because sometimes he’d wake up to short, twenty second voicemails from the Brit, his speech slurred with sleep, promising to call soon, wanting to hear his voice, how much he was missed.

And it was enough for Michael, for the first week. But now he was in week two; the pathetic stage, and was hooked on E News Live for updates on his boyfriend.

He was relieved that he was busy with work too, which took up his time. He’d ended up pushing yet another deadline, and his agent _and_ publisher were less than enthused, and Michael couldn’t exactly explain that his wandering attention was because of a _boy_.

But after a few pointed phone calls, and words thrown around like _publishing contract breaches_ and _failed deadline consequences_ , he’d put on a fresh pot of coffee, turned the volume on the TV down low, and was prepared to tie himself to his graphics desk if need be.

He’d spent hours hunched over his work – while three back-to-back episodes of the Kardashians played on the TV – and he managed to actually achieve something; something _good_.

By the time he was arching his back and listening to it crack, he had a neat pile of seven comic frames, all ready to be scanned and sent to his publisher for approval. He intended to get a snack and get back to it, but as soon as he walked back into his man cave, apple in his left hand, coffee in the right, he heard Harry’s name.

_“Publicized bad boy Harry Styles is never alone for long. The British model has been captured cosying up to a mystery dark-haired suitor at a magazine launch, and according to onlookers at the party, the two were definitely more than friends.”_

Michael felt his cheeks flush at the idea of seeing his face on TV. He could remember in an instant how Harry’s hands had been on him, how they’d been possessive as they strolled the carpet, the older man’s lips pressed to his cheek, his ear.

Michael’s fingertips felt tingly as he sat down on the couch, picking up the remote to rewind back to the headline. He took a bite of his apple, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he readied himself to see his own face.

The fruit turned sour in his mouth as his eyes scanned over the fast movements before hitting play, the tinny words of the reporter repeating the same words he’d heard moments before, the words that had made him blush, but now made him feel stupid.

Harry was indeed wrapped up in the arms of a dark-haired man at some Vogue party, but the man in his arms _wasn’t_ Michael. The video was timestamped as three days prior, when Harry was meant to be in Dubai, but was _clearly_ in Los Angeles, and _clearly_ not keeping any promises he’d made to Michael.

He wanted to vomit; wanted to spit out the fruit in his mouth and _cry_. Because he was _stupid,_ and he was ashamed at just how stupid he’d been. He should’ve listened to his friends, should’ve given them the respect they deserved because obviously, they’d been right.

He was tempted to call Luke and spill his apologies down the phone, but Michael wasn’t ready to admit he was right.

The video played on the TV, Harry’s hands hooked into the back pocket of the other guy’s pants – like he’d done to Michael – and his mouth pressed close to his ear – just like he’ d done to _Michael_ – and he choked a little.

Harry was obviously involved with whoever the guy was, their mouths sliding together in front of the photographers screaming his name.

Michael turned the TV off, dropping the remote to the rug on the floor and tipped over on the couch, curling up as he stared blankly at the opposite wall.

**

“Honey?”

Michael blinked his eyes open, letting out a soft groan as he lifted his head and felt the ache in his neck.

“Michael?”

He lifted his head further to see his mother standing in the doorway, dressed in her work clothes. “What time is it?” he grunted.

“After five,” she smiled. “I thought you were working today?”

Michael sat up, running a hand through his black hair as he yawned. “I am. I was,” he mumbled. “I had a bad day.”

She took a step into the room, pausing at the end of the couch. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He looked up at her, and knew that no matter what, she wouldn’t judge him. She wouldn’t think of him poorly, she wouldn’t pity him, either. She’d only barely met Harry, and didn’t know all that much about their relationship, and Michael knew that he could tell her.

But it was still too much.

“I’m alright,” he managed, putting a smile on his face. “I do have a deadline though, so I should get back to it.”

“Alright then,” she nodded. “Though I should tell you, Ashton is here. I can send him away, if you’re busy?”

Michael contemplated the idea. He wasn’t sure if he could talk to Ashton and keep a straight face, and he sure as hell knew he couldn’t talk to him about Harry. Out of all his friends, Ashton hated him the most, and Michael was almost afraid that there would be an _I told you so_ coming out of his mouth, and the sting hadn’t settled enough for him to be able to take it.

“Mikey?”

He sighed. “No, let him in.” He pulled himself up off the couch and tugged on the hem of his creased shirt, moving to sit at his graphics table.

He picked up a red marker, uncapping it and prepared to press it against the page in front of him, but he wasn’t able to remember what he was even _doing_ , let alone make a mark on the paper.

“Hey.”

He lifted his head and looked over at Ashton who stood in the doorway, dressed in impeccably pressed dress pants and a black button down shirt, with small white polka dots on it. His jacket was draped over his arm, and he looked tired, but so, _so_ mature.

“Hi,” Michael answered, turning his attention back to his page.

“Can I come in?”

Michael looked over at him and raised a brow. “Since when have you not been welcome?”

Ashton took a few steps inside, and shut the door after him. “We haven’t really talked since the barbeque.”

“Hm,” Michael mumbled. “Well, I’ve been busy,” he said, gesturing to the papers in front of him. “Deadlines and all that.”

Ashton nodded, taking a seat on the couch. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine,” Michael answered shortly. “You?”

Ashton sighed, running a hand through his unruly curls. “Mikey,” he mumbled. “I’ve been…fine.”

“Good,” Michael mumbled, turning back to his page.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ashton pressed. “You’re a little more antisocial than usual.”

“Ha, ha,” Michael mumbled sarcastically. “Can’t a guy have a bad day?”

“Of course you can,” Ashton acquiesced. “Can I ask why you’re having a bad day?”

“I just am,” Michael snapped.

Ashton fell quiet, and Michael was grateful.

He knew he was being a prick, and he was starting to wish he’d taken his mum up on the offer to deny Ashton’s visit. But now they were stuck there, in amongst all the tension, and Michael was desperately trying to figure out a way to get rid of him without causing a fight.

“So, I have a deadline,” he mumbled.

“I saw the pictures of Harry,” Ashton spilled out at the same time, his lips pressing tightly shut once the words were out there.

Michael felt his heart sink, taking in the surprised and guilty look on Ashton’s face, and he sighed. “So, you came to gloat?”

“What?” Ashton asked, confused. “No, Mikey. I didn’t come here to _gloat_. Jesus, I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“So what then?” Michael demanded angrily, capping the red pen and let it fall onto his desk. “You wanted to see for yourself that I’m upset? That I know just how much of a fucking prick he is?”

“No,” the older man said softly. “I came to see if you were okay.”

“Oh _sure_ ,” Michael demanded sarcastically, getting up from his desk to pace. “You took time out from your _busy_ day to pay me a little visit to see if I’m _okay_?”

“Yes,” Ashton frowned. “I saw the pictures and I didn’t know if you had, and I wanted to check up on you.”

“Well aren’t I fucking lucky?” Michael demanded. “Big shot music producer Ashton fucking Irwin can take time out to drop in on his needy, pathetic friends.”

“You’re not needy or pathetic,” Ashton argued. “Your boyfriend cheated on you, you have a right to be upset.”

Michael snorted. “Oh, sure. Like you all didn’t see this coming! What, were you just waiting, hm? You and Luke exchanging phone calls and placing bets on just how long it would take for him to fuck me over?”

“What?” Ashton demanded, his face creased into a permanent frown. “ _No_ , Michael!”

“He’s shit, okay?” Michael demanded. “And I’m stupid for believing him, for believing he’d change. You were all right, okay? Is that what you want to fucking hear?”

“Mikey,” the older man sighed, grabbing at Michael’s wrist when he paced past him. “This isn’t your fault, okay? _He_ fucked up, _he_ cheated. And none of us are gloating about being right, okay? No one _wanted_ this to happen.”

Michael could feel it coming, could feel his eyes burning, and he sat down heavily beside Ashton, putting his hands over his face as he felt the first few tear drops slide down his cheeks.

Ashton was silent, his fingers still curled around Michael’s wrist, squeezing gently.

Michael tried to hold in a soft sob, but it was useless as the tears continued to stream down his cheeks.

“Mikey,” Ashton whispered softly.

“Don’t,” Michael mumbled from behind his hands. “Don’t _say_ anything.”

Ashton nodded his head, sitting quietly and silently for a moment as Michael’s shoulders shook, before finally curling his arms around him gently.

Michael trembled a little, the solid weight of Ashton’s arms around him reminding him of Harry’s embrace. He wasn’t sure how long they sat there like that, in an awkward hug on Michael’s couch as he cried, but by the time he moved his hands away from his face, he was snotty and spent, his eyes on the rug.

“Mikey,” Ashton mumbled softly. “I’m really sorry.”

Michael looked over at him, at his honest hazel eyes that really were full of sympathetic support, and not satisfaction like Michael had assumed.

He felt like he was in an alternate dimension, because he could count the amount of times he’d cried in his life on one hand, and the fact he was doing it so freely, and in front of Ashton, made his shoulders slump, and he leant heavily against his friend.

“S’okay,” Ashton mumbled.

Michael sighed and sat up straight, his hand curling around Ashton’s wrist, around the cuff of his shirt. His fingertips ran over the small white buttons to where the older man’s watch peeked out from underneath the fabric.

“It’ll be okay.”

Michael looked up at him, and wasn’t sure who made the first move – if he was being honest, it was probably him – but he was leaning forward quickly, their lips meeting in a soft, surprising kiss.

Ashton’s hands pushed against his shoulders slightly, but not hard enough to actually move him, and Michael was terrified for a minute that the other man wouldn’t kiss back, that he’d have embarrassed himself yet again.

But then Ashton’s lips were moving against his own, his hand falling to Michael’s thigh.

And Michael knew it was wrong, he knew it was so foolish and possibly a friendship-ruining moment, but he didn’t listen to any of his common sense as they continued to kiss, mouths moving gently against one another’s.

“Mikey,” Ashton mumbled against his lips, pulling back gently. “You’re sad.”

Michael didn’t meet his eyes, looking down at Ashton’s wrist. “I’m sorry.”

Ashton cupped his cheek, guiding his head upwards so their eyes met. “Don’t be,” he mumbled, leaning back in to brush their lips together.

Michael thought kissing Ashton might feel like pity. Like maybe he gave away kisses to the less fortunate because their British boyfriends were fucking assholes.

But Michael was pleasantly surprised, because Ashton kissed with passion, but controlled passion. Like he wanted to speed things up, but took the time to familiarize himself with the press of Michael’s lips before his tongue was sliding forward, and Michael’s lips were parting immediately.

He was relieved when Ashton’s hand finally moved from his cheek, running down his neck, then his back to his hip, squeezing gently.

The kiss changed then, with the squeeze of Ashton’s hand, and Michael let out a soft sound, surging forward to demand a more urgent kiss out of the older man, which he was happy to give. Their tongues met again and again, Michael’s hands falling to Ashton’s thighs.

He moved quickly, pulling away from the kiss before sliding to the floor on his knees, crawling in front of Ashton and pushed his knees apart.

“Oh, woah, Mikey,” Ashton mumbled, his voice husky.

Michael looked up at him, hands moving to his belt. “Do you want me to stop?”

Ashton hesitated, then shook his head.

“Alright, then,” Michel mumbled, unbuckling his belt quickly before unbuttoning his pants and sliding the zipper down.

Ashton let out a soft pant, his hands curled into fists on his thighs.

“Lift,” Michael demanded gruffly, tugging sharply at his pants.

Ashton did as he was told, and Michael tugged his pants and boxers down at the same time, leaving them around his ankles.

Michael felt a bolt of anxiety fly through him, looking at one of his best friend’s half-hard dick right in his face, and acknowledging the fact the was very much about to suck that same dick, and that should come with some sort of moral quandary, right?

He shouldn’t _want_ to do this, he shouldn’t want to touch and kiss Ashton when he was sad about Harry. But that wasn’t enough to stop him from wrapping his hands around his friend’s more than impressive length, and tug him gently to full hardness.

Until Ashton was gasping softly, his head tipped back against the couch as he whimpered and tried not to buck up into Michael’s fist.

That’s when Michael leant forward, his mouth sliding over the slick head of his dick to the sound of Ashton gasping, his hand threading in Michael’s dark hair immediately.

“Jesus Christ,” Ashton mumbled, tugging gently at the strands.

Michael hummed softly, slowly taking more and more of him in, keeping his lips tight around the rigid flesh. It should be _wrong_ , Michael should not be thinking about how amazing Ashton felt in his mouth, about the soft little gasps and whimpers he let out whenever Michael moved.

“Jesus, Mikey,” Ashton mumbled softly.

Michael snuck a hand down to squeeze his own hard length, feeling the desire thrumming underneath his skin. He distracted himself with starting a rhythm, bobbing slowly up and down on Ashton’s length, tongue pressed against the underside on the upward stroke, only to slide over the head as he went down again.

“Mikey, I’m going to lose it embarrassingly fast,” Ashton squeaked.

Michael couldn’t help but smile around his mouthful, petting Ashton’s thigh in understanding. And he should’ve left it there, let Ashton finish in his mouth and get through the no-doubt awkward conversation that would follow his orgasm, but Michael was reckless and pulling off and clamouring up into Ashton’s lap to kiss him roughly.

Ashton’s hands gripped his hips, pulling him down to grind up against him, letting out soft broken moans into the kiss.

Michael groaned, hands threading through the older man’s curls, giving a sharp tug.

“Mikey,” Ashton groaned, pulling out of the kiss to blink his glazed eyes up at him. “What are we doing, huh?”

Michael kissed over his jaw, teeth running against his stubble. “Gonna fuck me?” he whispered, hands pulling Ashton’s head back to get more access to his neck.

“Fuck,” Ashton whined softly. “Are you sure?”

Michael tore one hand out of Ashton’s hair to grope blindly for the other man’s hand, pushing it between his legs, to show Ashton just how sure he was.

“Yeah, okay,” Ashton panted quickly. “Should we, I mean. Your bed?”

Michael shook his head, closing his teeth around the tender skin of Ashton’s neck. “Here,” he mumbled. “Fuck me here.”

Ashton’s hands slid up his thighs, grabbing at his hips again. “Jesus Michael,” he moaned softly.

Michael pulled away, admiring the red mark on Ashton’s throat, and he ducked back in to give him another, biting his teeth harder to listen to the hitch of the older man’s breath.

“Stop,” Ashton whined, even as he bared his neck for more.

“Have to be quick,” Michael whispered. “M’parents are home.”

Ashton nodded, licking over his lips. “Have you got lube? A condom?”

Michael lifted his head, looking over his shoulder at the coffee table. He reached down to tug a drawer open, surfacing with a strip of condoms and a half-empty bottle of lubrication.

“Such a boy scout,” Ashton teased softly.

Michael rolled his eyes, manoeuvring around so he could slip his boxers off, ignoring his painful erection as he settled back in Ashton’s lap.

The older man kissed him again, and Michael forgot how hard he was, finding it so easy to lose himself in the kiss. Ashton was a great kisser, and he made a mental note to tell him, after.

They got lost in it again, mouths moving quickly and vying for dominance, and Michael was all too happy to let Ashton win, a silent squeak getting stuck in his throat as the older man tipped him over onto his back, sliding on top of him.

“Shit, Ashton,” Michael whispered, one arm curling around the other man’s shoulders.

Ashton grunted, kicking off his shoes so he could get his pants and underwear off, fumbling with the bottle of lube before he was squirting some onto his fingers.

Michael tried to prepare himself for the cool slickness, and was happy to lick into Ashton’s mouth to distract himself, letting out a soft noise at the first teasing press of Ashton’s index finger.

His stomach bottomed out, the digit sliding hotly over his entrance for a moment before it was pressing inside, sinking into the first knuckle easily.

“Jesus,” Ashton groaned harshly, his voice rough. “You’re fucking amazing.”

Michael felt tears prick his eyes at the compliment, remembering all the times Harry had said something similar, but it had never felt genuine. He bit down on his bottom lip and kissed Ashton again, rocking his hips back for more.

It didn’t take long before Ashton had three fingers inside him, scissoring gently to prepare him well.

“Alright,” Michael panted into his mouth. “S’enough. Just fuck me.”

Ashton kissed him again, pressing his fingers in deep before removing them completely.

Michael groaned and bit down on his bottom lip as the older man pulled back to put the condom on, tossing the packet to the floor.

Michael checked him out discreetly, his button down shirt pushed up to his ribs, his long fingers deft as he gripped himself with one hand, the other rolling the rubber down his desperately hard flesh. He was kind of amazing, crouched there like that, with promises to fuck Michael into next week, if the size of his dick was any indication.

Michael knew he’d never say it out loud, but Ashton was probably the biggest he’d ever been with, and the size of him promised a dull ache for the next few days that Michael was more than happy to accept.

“You sure?”

Michael looked up at Ashton’s earnest hazel eyes. He nodded quickly, though he knew he probably wasn’t doing it for the right reasons.

Ashton had to have known, but he didn’t stop either, moving Michael’s knees against his chest gently.

Michael held his breath, his eyes on the ceiling as Ashton did his thing, and the younger man let out a groan as the slick head of Ashton’s dick skated over his entrance, before finding ground and beginning to push inside.

Michael gasped – he didn’t meant to, but Ashton felt amazing – and he looked up at him, pulling him down into a slow kiss as he slowly bottomed out.

“Mikey,” Ashton mumbled, his hands hooking around the back of his knees, tugging gently so he could press further inside. “You good?”

“So good,” Michael gasped, his arm sliding around Ashton’s shoulders, kissing him softly.

“Feel so good,” Ashton mumbled, stroking the back of Michael’s thigh as he rocked his hips gently.

Michael hummed his agreement, tipping his head back for a moment as he found a way to rock his hips back, meeting Ashton’s soft thrusts.

Ashton grunted, his teeth running over Michael’s shoulder.

“C’mon,” Michael goaded softly. “Fuck me, Ash. C’mon, need you to fuck me.”

Ashton groaned, lifting his head to kiss Michael messily. “Shut up,” he mumbled against his mouth.

“Didn’t take you for such a bossy boots in the sack.”

Ashton rolled his eyes, hands gentle even as he pulled out, and then surged forward.

The movement punched a surprised groan out of Michael, his nails digging into Ashton’s shoulder.

“Better?” Ashton demanded cockily, pushing Michael’s knees to his chest, thrusting sharply into him, just like he wanted.

All he could do was nod, holding onto Ashton tightly as they rocked as one, the rough drag of him inside enough to leave Michael non-verbal.

It was good sex, but even underneath the pleasure and want, Michael was thinking of Harry. Of him fucking someone else, fucking someone like he used to fuck Michael.

“Jesus Ash, come on,” Michael snapped. “Surely you can go harder than this.”

“Yeah, I can,” Ashton panted softly. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”

Michael wanted Harry to say those words. Michael wanted Harry to be there with him, at the same he wanted to punch Harry in the nose.

“You’re crying.”

“Shut up, you’re crying,” Michael muttered, wiping angrily at his eyes.

Ashton’s movements slowed and he kissed Michael’s mouth. “Do you want to stop? I’ll stop if you want.”

“No,” Michael said softly, reaching up to slide his fingertips over Ashton’s jaw. “Don’t stop. I’m fine.”

Ashton kissed him softly, his hips moving again quickly.

It felt wrong, despite feeling so good, and Michael knew that whatever they were doing would change their relationship irrevocably. He opened his mouth to stop Ashton, placed a hand on his chest to push him away, but a particularly strong thrust punched a loud groan out of Michael’s mouth, and he was quickly muffling his cries against Ashton’s shoulder.

The last thing either of them needed was to alert Karen or Daryl to what they were doing behind the _unlocked_ door to Michael’s man cave.

“Shit,” Ashton whispered, sweat beading on his upper lip and hairline, kissing Michael messily.

Michael responded, his lips lazy now that Ashton was doing all the right things to start a fire in his belly, his knees pressed to his chest, and Ashton’s hand in his hair while the other gripped Michael’s pale thigh.

It was the most naked he’d ever been in front of his friend, and still felt horribly exposed even in his baggy t-shirt. He was a far cry from muscular like Ashton, his skin sickly pale where Ashton was a healthy tan. They couldn’t be more different, but Michael was addicted to the way Ashton touched him, the care he took even as he thrusted sharply, their movements loud in the otherwise silent room.

It was a side of Ashton he’d never expected to see, and he felt almost _lucky_ to be able to look up at the other man, to know what he looked like when he was close to orgasm.

“Mikey,” Ashton whispered softly, his eyes glassy as they ran over his face. “Close? You close?”

“Yes,” Michael gasped softly, lifting his head off the couch to kiss over the other man’s mouth, taking all he could get before it was over.

Ashton kissed him back gently, groaning out as he thrust sharply, though the rhythm was fading fast.

Michael gasped, tearing his mouth away to pull Ashton in closer, burying his face in his neck. “Ash, Ash, _Ash_ ,” he whispered, biting down on his shoulder as the older man’s hand curled around his erection and jerked him off quickly.

“C’mon,” Ashton goaded softly, his voice rough. “Come for me.”

Michael wasn’t sure if he was a sucker for orders, but he was hard pressed to deny Ashton’s request as his stomach tensed, his toes curling and knees squeezing Ashton closer to him as he came in sharp, quick pulses over his fingers.

“Jesus Christ,” Ashton moaned, his hand covered in Michael’s come as he grabbed at the younger man’s thigh, smearing his seed over his skin as he thrust harder, one, two, _three_ times before he was coming into the condom, letting out a groan as he finished.

Michael pressed his lips together in a straight line as Ashton’s movements faltered, his hands losing their grip on his thigh as he slumped down against him.

Michael took a moment to press his nose into Ashton’s curls, noting the subtle scent of vanilla and frangipani, and how soft the hair was against his cheek.

“Shiiiiit,” Ashton groaned softly after a moment.

Michael was still silent as the older man pulled out of him awkwardly, sitting back on the couch to deal with the condom, and Michael averted his eyes completely. He didn’t need to see Ashton touching himself, and tying off the condom. He didn’t need reality to set in, to remind him he’d just slept with one of his _best_ friends in the entire _world._

Because he already knew, knew as Ashton was pulling his dick out of his ass, that they’d done something they couldn’t take back.

Michael dressed quickly when Ashton reached for his pants, and he was quick as he pulled his boxers back on, and felt severely underdressed as Ashton zipped his pants and tucked his button down in loosely.

Michael’s eyes stayed on the floor as Ashton put his shoes back on, knotting the laces twice before standing up.

“Uh, are you okay?”

Michael nodded, his lips pressed together. “Yep,” he said quickly.

“Mikey?”

Michael looked up quickly, and immediately let his eyes fall to something else. How in the hell was he supposed to look Ashton in the eye after _that_?

“C’mere,” Ashton mumbled, reaching out to pull him in to a loose hug.

Michael went, but his body was rigid, hands hanging by his sides as the awkward embrace ended quickly.

“I, uh,” Ashton mumbled, before clearing his throat. “I could go?”

Michael nodded. “S’probably a good idea,” he murmured.

“Alright,” Ashton agreed. “Uh, I’ll talk to you later?”

Michael nodded, wishing he could shove his hands in his pockets or somehow rush Ashton out the door quicker. It was downright painful, having to face the consequences of what they’d done out of desperation and sadness.

The goodbye was quick and awkward, and Michael thumped his head against the closed door of his room once Ashton had gone, letting out a deep, confused groan.

What the hell was he doing?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I'd make up for that last short chapter with this one! This monster (12 pages long!) is the promised Mashton! This was so much fun to write, because Michael is so emotionally stunted and hurt and unsure and he thinks sex might be the answer, although sex with Ashton probably isn't good for their friendship :(
> 
> But, here it is, and I hope you all enjoy it! Please let me know what you think!
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading and subscribing and leaving kudos, and super big thanks to KellyWoods, shutupluke, Skagger, DrunkOnDrarry, Wizardofoz, Coco_Decon & everybodyismoche for their comments!
> 
> xoxo


	6. Chapter 6

Michael dodged Ashton’s phone calls and text messages in the days following the Incident. He was sick of hearing his phone go off with every new text, and seeing every goddamn uncertain smiley face that followed each message.

_Hey, are you okay? *uncertain smiley face*_

_Mikey? Are you alright? *uncertain smiley face*_

_Hey, I watched Mythbusters last night about the tongue sticking to the pole theory. Lol it was funny *uncertain smiley face*_

Michael had had enough, and told Ashton – in no uncertain terms – to kindly _fuck off_. Only it wasn’t all that kind, and the blunt text he had sent made him feel a little sick once it floated off into cyberspace.

But it had worked, at least until an idle Thursday, when the Clifford house was quiet and Michael had Simple Plan playing softly as he got a few more frames done of his novel, finding that his ability to concentrate was better than it had been at the start of the week.

At least until there was a knock at the front door, and Michael was sighing with annoyance as he abandoned his productive morning, knowing that in all likeliness, there was a delivery guy on his doorstep with yet another steal his mother had landed on eBay.

Michael considered ignoring it, but he knew his mum would be pissed if he let her delivery of _whatever_ she won at the front door all day. So he pulled on pants and headed out of his room to the front door, opening it quickly.

“Hey.”

Michael frowned, looking at Ashton.

Ashton, who was holding two take away coffees and dressed decidedly like the Ashton of five years ago, before his fancy career started and he started meeting celebrities.

But apart from the coffees, Ashton was smiling hopefully, his curls particularly unruly.

“Michael?”

“Hey,” Michael answered, his voice oddly loud.

Ashton smiled. “I bought coffee. Thought we could hang out?”

Michael frowned. “It’s like 1PM. Don’t you have a job?”

“I do,” Ashton nodded. “But I pushed my afternoon meetings and thought I’d drop in.”

“Is this about the sex?” Michael asked, his brows furrowing. “Are you feeling weird about it?”

Ashton rolled his eyes, pushing a cup into Michael’s hand and stepped inside the house. “Stop questioning my intentions,” he grumbled softly, walking down the hall to Michael’s man cave, and left him hovering at the open door.

Michael frowned, looking in the direction Ashton went, and wondered if following him would be a good idea. He’d tried to think about their hook up as little as possible, because he wasn’t ready to face the possibility that their friendship would be ruined, or possibly _over_ , because of it.

But despite a little awkwardness, and the images flashing through Michael’s mind, things seemed _okay_ and he was surprised by that. It’s what had him closing the door and taking a sip of his coffee as he followed Ashton’s path, finding the older man sitting on his couch.

“Should we talk about it?” Ashton asked, taking a sip from his coffee as Michael entered the room.

“No?” Michael shrugged, sitting beside him. “I mean, unless you want to.”

Ashton looked down at his cup, fiddling with the plastic lid. “Do you regret it?”

It was a question Michael had asked himself multiple times, and each time, he was unable to come up with a clear answer. Did he regret jumping the gun and using Ashton to heal his heartbreak over Harry?

Absolutely.

Did he regret the incredible orgasm, the kisses and the touches they’d exchanged?

Not so much.

“I don’t know, Ash,” he mumbled softly. “What about you?”

Ashton set his cup down on the coffee table, turning toward Michael. “I feel like I should, but I don’t.”

Michael looked up, at Ashton’s earnest hazel eyes. He was so _honest_ , and it made Michael endlessly sad that he just wasn’t _used_ to someone treating him with respect.

Ashton took the cup out of his hand and set it on the coffee table before leaning over.

Michael bit down on his bottom lip, his eyes on Ashton’s mouth. He felt nervous, his fingertips trembling slightly as he got closer, their noses nudging for a moment before their lips brushed together.

Michael let out a soft noise, his hands coming up to cup Ashton’s jaw gently as they kissed. It was soft, closed-mouth kisses that were almost chaste, making light of the desperate, dirty ones from earlier in the week.

But it felt nice to take their time, and Michael could stop and take notice of just how soft Ashton’s lips were, that they brushed softly against Michael’s gently, with _respect_.

“Mikey?”

Michael pulled back and bit down on his bottom lip. “What?”

Ashton’s hand dropped to his thigh, rubbing softly. “Do you want to?”

Michael nodded quickly, feeling his heart jump into his throat, as he leant back in eagerly to kiss Ashton with more urgency.

Ashton’s hands settled on his thighs, and the last thought Michael had before Ashton’s tongue was pressing into his mouth was, _here we go again._

**

Michael groaned, his mouth dragging over Ashton’s shoulder as he moved off of his lap, feeling the other man slip out of him with a gasp before he was collapsing onto the couch. He was panting harshly, face pressed into a throw cushion, come on his stomach and Ashton’s thighs and he couldn’t get his breath back, couldn’t get his vision to clear.

“Shit,” Ashton mumbled, crumbling down on top of him awkwardly, face pressed into Michael’s chest.

Michael patted at his hair gently, running his fingers through it and tugging gently. “This is a thing, isn’t it?”

Ashton grunted against his chest, hands mapping Michael’s thighs, covered in bruises from his mouth. “Want it to be?” he mumbled.

Michael turned slightly, staring up at the ceiling as he overlooked just how _gross_ he felt, and the fact the condom Ashton was wearing was half off and spilling come on the couch, undoubtedly.

“Mikey?”

“Shut up,” Michael mumbled weakly. “Get up here and kiss me.”

Ashton laughed softly, lifting his head tiredly and pressing a kiss to his chin. “Good enough?”

Michael rolled his eyes, his hands sliding under Ashton’s arms and tugged him up, futilely.

Ashton groaned, crawling up Michael’s spent body a few inches to kiss him, their mouths sliding together in a barely-there kiss.

Michael felt warm and content, which he knew he shouldn’t considering this was the _second_ time he’d hooked up with his best friend.

It was still awkward, because Ashton’s dick was just _there_ , soft and kinda sad looking between his legs, and Michael tried not to look at it because it was still _weird_.

“Are you okay? Honest? Don’t bullshit me,” Ashton mumbled.

Michael looked down at him, catching his eyes quickly. “I’m fine, okay? I’m not Luke, remember? I’m not going to demand a diamond ring because we hooked up.”

Ashton pulled himself up into a sitting position, dealing with the condom quickly before he was pulling his boxer briefs back on. Michael did the same, not wanting to have this kind of conversation when his dick was out.

“I mean it,” Ashton insisted. “We’ve known each other too long to just be cavalier about this.”

Michael sighed. “What do you want me to say, Ash? We have good sex.”

Ashton rolled his eyes. “We’re friends, Mikey. If you think this is going to complicate that then it doesn’t have to be a thing.”

Michael leant over, kissing him gently. “It’s a thing.”

Ashton nodded, pressing his nose against Michael’s cheek. “Okay, Mikey. Alright.”

Michael nodded, pressing another kiss to Ashton’s mouth before he was dragging him back into his arms for another round.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are so good to me! I loved reading all the 'reaction' comments to the previous chapter! The general consensus is that Harry is a jerk, and that Mashton are pretty damaged but the sex was great? 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read/subscribed and left kudos and super huge thanks to fluffypsychopaths, Wizardofoz, DrunkOnDrarry, Migs, Skagger, Coco_Decon, shutupluke, tigerlily_sunshine, irwah, horanswillie, & daisy_maus for their wonderful comments!!
> 
> xoxo


	7. Chapter 7

Michael got in too deep, too fast.

At first, it was just Ashton showing up on his doorstep at any hour of the day or night. He’d politely greet Michael’s parents and they’d disappear into his bedroom or man cave to have sex, and he’d usually leave right after, leaving Michael to question their actions.

It was okay if it _felt_ good, right?

He could remember getting a text from Ashton at close to nine one night. He was up, working on more of his novel and listening to Green Day on a low volume when his phone sounded, a sleepy smiley face on his screen and a question mark, and Michael knew what it was about.

He knew to answer with a thumbs up, knew that he didn’t have to type any words to let Ashton know he was welcome. But soon after sending the message, Michael’s stomach knotted in fear.

It had only been a week and a half, and they’d hooked up at _least_ seven times since the first time. It wasn’t always sex, either. Ashton was a big fan of giving blowjobs, and Michael was an even bigger fan of returning them. Sometimes it wasn’t much more than a lazy chat and some kissing, and _that_ was what scared Michael the most.

The fact that they could _talk_ , without needing to get off, and Michael _listened_ , to everything Ashton said, even if it was minor grievances about the security system in his apartment complex, or the fact that the lead singer in a new band he was working with was such a smooth talker he was finding it hard to get any work done.

Michael would give him advice about complicated musicians, would tell him to call the building maintenance guy about the security. They’d talk about Harry gearing up for the HSC, or a crazy idea Michael had for a side project to his graphic novel.

It was scary and fast and Michael wasn’t aware he’d gone into their arrangement with as much baggage as he found himself surrounded by, in the hour before Ashton showed up at his door.

His mum answered the chime of the doorbell, and Michael skidded out of his room and down the hall to try and beat her, but by the time he was coming to a stop on the tiled floor, Karen was already welcoming Ashton inside.

“Hey,” Ashton greeted him, a tired smile on his face.

Michael smiled back. “Hey yourself.”

“Can I get you boys anything?” Karen offered.

“Thanks Mrs C,” Ashton smiled politely. “I’m good.”

“Yeah, mum,” Michael insisted softly. “We’re just gonna go to my room.”

She smiled a weird smile, one that had Michael’s eyes narrowing. She raised a brow in his direction before closing the door and returning to the living room, leaving the two men alone.

“Hey,” Ashton mumbled again, stepping close and pulled Michael in.

It was too much, too familiar and Michael _meant_ to push Ashton away. He raised his hands to do so, but instead, rubbed over his shoulders and the soft material of his suit jacket.

“Bad day?” he mumbled.

Ashton shrugged, his hands on the small of Michael’s back. “Weird day.”

“Yeah?” Michael hummed. “What are you doing working on a Saturday anyway?”

Ashton let him go to run a hand through his hair. “Schedule conflicts,” he sighed. “I only have a really small window with the band I’m working with, and they were technically meant to fly to Brisbane this morning, but pushed their flight to tomorrow so we could cram in a few hours of work.”

Michael nodded, leading the way back to his bedroom, shutting the door and sliding the lock into place. His room was dimly lit, the TV on with muted sound, and his bed was a shambles. He hung back by his door, watching as Ashton shrugged out of his jacket and hung it over the back of Michael’s desk chair before flopping down onto his bed.

Michael bit down on his lip as he watched him rub at his eyes, lifting his head to look at Michael when he realized he hadn’t followed.

“You okay?”

Michael nodded, stepping away from the door to join Ashton on the bed, sitting cross legged beside him.

“You seem a little off,” Ashton mumbled, his hand reaching up to rest on Michael’s bare knee.

“No,” Michael argued softly, shrugging a shoulder. “I’m fine.”

Ashton pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking up at the younger man expectantly. “Kiss?”

The freight train of warning slammed into Michael again, and he really, honestly _meant_ to deny him, but leant down and kissed Ashton anyway.

It was wrong and too much and Michael wondered when those things would have him _actually_ pushing Ashton away, and he refused to think of the possibility that he might not reach that point, that this might actually be different.

“Do you mind if we just hang out tonight?” Ashton asked softly. “I mean, we can hook up if you want, but I’m kinda tired.”

Michael bit down on his bottom lip, his hand moving to the buttons on Ashton’s shirt. “No, that’s okay,” he said softly. “We don’t have to every time we see each other, right?”

Ashton smiled. “Right.”

Michael felt a flutter in his stomach that he ignored and helped Ashton out of his shirt before pressing their lips together again.

 _Casual, casual, friends with benefits,_ he chanted in his head.

“Mikey,” Ashton mumbled softly, pulling back to cup his cheek. “Thanks for letting me come over.”

Michael smiled, his eyes casting downwards for a moment. “We’re friends, right? Friends are there for one another.”

“Friends,” Ashton repeated softly. “Yeah, we’re friends.”

Michael felt odd as they fell into another soft kiss, Ashton pushing him down onto his back before sliding on top of him. It felt weird to kiss without the possibility that sex would eventuate.

Every time Harry kissed him, Michael knew what he wanted. He wanted sex, or Michael’s hand or his mouth or _something_ that would mean an orgasm for him.

Ashton kissing him without expecting anything in return felt _nice_. He felt valued and validated and it was so _not_ friendly.

Michael pulled away from the kiss, hooking a curl behind Ashton’s ear. “Do you wanna sleep? I’m tired.”

“Yeah,” Ashton sighed, flopping over onto his back.

Michael got up to shut the light and TV off, lingering by the door as he watched Ashton stand up and unzip and unbutton his pants, letting them fall to the floor. He was muscular, from his calves to his strong shoulders, and he was just so _safe_.

Ashton caught his eye and smiled, holding out a hand. “You sure you’re okay?”

Michael nodded, crossing his room to take Ashton’s hand before they both crawled in under the pile of blankets on his bed.

He was probably _not_ okay, because this was completely new. Ashton had never slept over before, even after they’d had sex. So now that he _was_ , without them exchanging anything more than a few kisses felt more romantic than friendly.

“G’night,” Ashton mumbled, tugging Michael close so the younger man’s head was tucked up under his chin, his arms wrapping around Michael.

“Night,” Michael whispered, pressing his eyes shut as he tried to remind himself that this wasn’t anything more than sex.

_Right._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one, but a very important one! Michael is starting to realize that sleeping with Ashton is not what he thought it would be. We actually get to see his walls come down a little, even if it was only for a second. I really love the idea of showing you all Michael's side of this story, and I'm so grateful you're all enjoying it!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who is reading/subscribing/leaving kudos, and super big thanks to Skagger, DrunkOnDrarry, thominhoplease, irwah, Coco_Decon, CupidGenie & tigerlily_sunshine for their awesome comments!
> 
> xoxo


	8. Chapter 8

Ashton was still asleep beside Michael when Michael’s phone rang at some ungodly hour of the morning. He blinked himself awake to hear his phone vibrating off his bedside table, his hand reaching out to grab it before it dived off and hit the carpet, blinking against the harsh light of the screen to see Calum’s face staring back at him.

He pushed himself up with his free hand, nudging Ashton’s hand off of his hip because he knew that no matter what, a phone call from Calum at close to three o’clock in the morning wasn’t good.

“Cal?”

“Hey,” Calum whispered softly.

He sounded awful.

The kind of awful that meant something horrible had happened, and Michael immediately thought of Luke. Of something horrible happening to him, and Michael realizing he never got to apologize for their stupid fight.

“What is it?” he questioned, fear choking him as he looked down at Ashton, wishing he’d woken him up.

“I’m at the hospital,” Calum said softly. “I’m with Luke’s family. Jesus, I don’t know how to say it, Mikey. It’s Ben and Sarah, they…there was an accident and they didn’t make it.”

Michael hated himself for the sigh of relief he let out. The tension drained out of his shoulders as he realized that Luke was fine, Luke was safe.

But then the magnitude of what Calum was saying was sinking in, telling him that Ben and Sarah Hemmings were _gone_. Which had to be wrong, he thought. It had to be so wrong, because young people didn’t just die. His best friend’s brother and sister-in-law didn’t just _die_.

 “What?” he breathed, the only word to spring to mind as he tried to accept the words he was hearing.

“We babysat Ruby last night so they could go to Sarah’s sister’s birthday party up the coast. They were coming back this morning and hit a kangaroo. The cops said it was instant.”

“Fuck,” Michael cursed, feeling the disbelief settle inside him. “Luke?” he questioned, looking down at Ashton, who was still sleeping. “Fuck, Cal. How is Luke?”

Calum sighed. “He’s a mess,” he admitted. “We just got to the hospital and he had a fight with his family and walked off. I’m giving him some time to cool off before I go and find him.”

Michael could feel tears burn in his eyes, and he shook Ashton’s shoulder gently.

Ashton groaned.

“Are you okay?”

Michael didn’t realize silent tears were trickling down his cheeks as Calum asked him the soft question, and he sniffed.

“Luke,” he whispered. “What can I do for Luke?”

“Nothing, Mikey,” Calum said gently. “There’s nothing anyone can do, you know? He’s got the baby and I think it’s not really hitting him fully yet.”

Michael shook Ashton again, this time with more urgency.

“I want to do _something_ , Cal. I can’t just _sit_ here.”

“I know,” Calum said softly. “You could call Ashton for me? That’d help.”

Michael nodded. “He’s uh, he’s here. With me.”

“Oh,” Calum said softly. “That’s…good for you, Mikey.”

Michael dug his fingernails into Ashton’s wrist until the other man whimpered, his eyes fluttering open.

He was hazy for a moment, pulling his wrist out of Michael’s grasp. “Shit Mikey, what is it?” he demanded irritably. He blinked up at Michael, and the twisted expression on his face fell once he saw Michael’s tears. “Shit,” he whispered, sitting up, cupping his jaw gently. “What is it?”

“I’ll go,” Calum said into Michael’s ear. “Try and find Luke.”

“Okay,” Michael nodded, finding Ashton’s hand with his own, lacing their fingers together. “Tell him I love him. That I’m…that I’m _sorry_.”

Calum promised he would and they hung up, Michael dropping his phone onto the bed.

“Michael,” Ashton demanded, his voice strangled with fear. “What is it?”

Michael’s teeth closed tightly over his bottom lip for a moment. “Cal and Luke babysat for Ben and Sarah last night,” he whispered. “They went to some party and they got into an accident coming home.”

“Jesus,” Ashton whispered, his face pensive before twisting into a look of horror. “Oh _God_ ,” he whispered, realization dawning on him. “Tell me they’re okay, Mikey.”

Michael shook his head sadly, looking down at his lap.

“Shit,” Ashton whispered. “Shit, shit, _shit_. How’s Luke? What’s going on?”

“Calum said it hasn’t really hit him yet. He’s pretty angry, and everyone is at the hospital.”

“Shit,” Ashton whispered again, reaching out to place his hand on Michael’s bare shoulder where his t-shirt had slipped. “Are _you_ okay?”

Michael shrugged, feeling his bottom lip tremble.

“C’mere,” Ashton murmured, pulling him into a hug, rubbing his back gently. He pressed soft, gentle kisses to Michael’s shoulder, holding him close.

Michael let out a soft, shaky breath into his shoulder, clinging tightly to the older man. He felt the grief punch through him – both shared and his own – and tried to think of what life would be like without his honorary big brother.

Michael never understood the bond Luke had with Ben. He figured that was what being an only child meant, but he’d been insanely jealous of all the times Ben would be there for him, helping Luke figure out his sexuality, protecting him from bullies, and being a shoulder to cry on whenever things were rough.

Michael had resented it, punished Luke for it, until one day he’d shown up at Luke’s house when he was sixteen, in a desperately emotional state after losing his virginity to a guy who didn’t give a shit about him.

Luke had been out with his mum, and the only person home had been Ben. Stealing food from his parent’s fridge and taking advantage of the Foxtel he couldn’t afford himself since moving out.

Michael had tried to flee once he found out Luke wasn’t home, but Ben had grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside, and gently persuaded him to confess whatever was bothering him.

Michael had hesitated, tugging his shirt sleeves down over his fingertips, chewing on his thumbnail as he avoided eye contact with him, not wanting to openly divulge the details of his _first time_ to his best friend’s _big brother_.

But Ben had that _thing_ about him – he was calming where Jack was caustic – and Michael opened up completely, spilling his secrets and crying messily.

He expected Ben to laugh – to tell him he was a fool for sleeping with a nineteen year old boy that threw him aside the moment he was finished – but he didn’t. He’d held Michael’s hand and told him that some guys were scum, and that it wasn’t his fault he ended up with one of them.

Michael never forgot it, even though he felt awkward around Ben for almost three years after the conversation took place. He never told anyone, either.

“Hey,” Ashton whispered softly, pushing him away to reach over to grab a tissue, dabbing at Michael’s cheeks. “You okay?”

“He was like a big brother to me,” Michael mumbled, looking down at his hands. “And I just don’t know how Luke will get through losing him.”

“I know,” Ashton murmured softly, pulling him back in. “We’ll just be there for him, okay? Do everything we can to make things easier.”

“But _how_?” Michael whispered. “I don’t even know what I’d say to him. The last words we exchanged were horrible.”

“That doesn’t matter now,” Ashton insisted softly. “Honestly, Mikey. It’ll be the furthest thing on his mind.”

Michael nodded and tried to hold onto the rational side of himself. But his fears were overriding everything, and he felt like he should be _doing_ something.

He pushed the covers back, kicking them off his legs.

“Mikey?” Ashton asked, a frown on his face. “Where are you going?”

“The hospital,” he said quickly, getting out of bed and looking around in the dark for a pair of jeans. His fingers were shaking as he grabbed a pair of sweatpants instead, pulling them on quickly.

“Mikey,” Ashton said softly, sitting up. “C’mon, there’s nothing you can do.”

“Why aren’t you upset?” Michael demanded shrilly. “Luke’s brother is _dead_!”

The older man’s face softened, and he inched out of bed, pulling Michael in against his chest.

“No,” Michael fought, trying to shove him away. “I have to go, Ashton.”

Ashton used his strength to his advantage and dragged Michael back in, running his fingers through his hair. “Come back to bed.”

“No,” Michael mumbled against his shoulder, winding his arms around the older man’s waist. “I just have to _do_ something, Ash.”

“I know,” Ashton whispered softly. “But it’s three o’clock in the morning and Calum’s with him. I want to go too, and I want to hold Luke and try to take away his pain, but we can’t. He needs to be with his family.”

Michael pressed his closed lips against Ashton’s shoulder, hands stroking down his back slowly. “How does something like this just happen?”

“I don’t know,” Ashton admitted softly. “I wish I knew why, so I could give you an answer, and give Luke and his family one. But it just happens, Mikey. There’s no rhyme or reason as to why people die or leave us.”

“That’s not good enough,” Michael whispered.

Ashton pulled back far enough to cup his jaw in both of his hands, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, peppering soft kisses against his mouth. “Jesus Mikey, I’m so sorry.”

Michael let out a shuddery breath and pressed a more urgent kiss to Ashton’s lips. “It’s not fair.”

Ashton kissed him, lips dragging over Michael’s gently. “C’mon,” he mumbled. “Come back to bed, try and sleep.”

Michael didn’t want to, didn’t want to lay there while Luke was in a hospital scared out of his mind. But Ashton was right, there was nothing they could do, and it didn’t make sense to storm into the hospital and make things worse.

So he got back into bed, let Ashton curl around his back and slide his hand under his t-shirt, and let the horrible grief drag him into unconsciousness.

**

When Michael woke up again, it was with a headache and tightness in his chest. Ashton sat on the edge of the bed, putting his shoes on quietly, and Michael immediately felt panicked, about the idea that Ashton was leaving, and normally, he would’ve questioned his clinginess, but after dreams of Ben and Sarah and Luke rolling through his head, he didn’t think twice as he sat up and crawled toward the other man, curling over his back.

“Don’t go,” he whispered, his voice gravelly and deep.

“Hey,” Ashton murmured, already fully dressed save for his jacket. “I was going to wake you.”

Michael pressed his lips against the back of Ashton’s neck, the other man’s hair tickling his nose. “What’s the time?”

“Just after five,” Ashton responded, reaching up to pat Michael’s clasped hands on his chest. “How’re you feeling?”

Michael sighed. “I don’t know. All messed up inside. What about you?”

Ashton moved his hands and loosened his grip so he could turn, cupping Michael’s cheek gently. “I’m alright. Didn’t get much sleep.”

“Can you stay?” Michael asked him softly.

“If you want,” Ashton nodded. “I was going to head home, talk to mum, tell her what’s going on.”

Michael nodded, realizing he’d have to do the same. He wasn’t sure if he could say the words, because as long as Michael had known Luke and his family, so had his parents. He could remember summer barbeques in the Hemmings’ backyard, all the boys in the pool while their parents drank wine and laughed.

This wasn’t just a loss felt by a few people, this was large scale, devastating hurt.

“I was going to go up to the hospital,” Michael mumbled. “See how everyone is.”

“Alright,” Ashton nodded. “Why don’t you do that, I really want to catch mum and tell her, Harry and Lauren too.”

Michael fought the urge to ask Ashton to stay, to hold his hand and be with him until the hurt wasn’t quite so fierce, but he knew that the other man had his own grief to experience. The co-dependency from Michael wouldn’t help.

“C’mere,” Ashton mumbled, pulling him in to brush their lips together. “I can come with you, after I stop in at home? Meet you at the hospital?”

“Yeah,” Michael whispered. “That’d be…yeah.”

Ashton smiled, brushing their mouths together softly. “I better go. You sure you’re okay?”

Michael nodded, feeling warmth spread through him. He could see the concern clear in Ashton’s eyes, and he felt special, _cared_ for. It’s what had him leaning in to press a hard kiss to Ashton’s lips, cupping his stubbled jaw.

“Mikey, I,” Ashton mumbled as he pulled away from the kiss. “I…I gotta go.”

Michael bit down on his bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah, okay. Give me a call when you’re done?”

Ashton nodded and pressed another quick kiss to his lips.

Michael watched him get up and put his jacket on, and disappeared from his bedroom. Everything was just _quiet_ when he was gone, and Michael sighed. It felt empty, like everything was a little less just because he’d left the room.

Michael rubbed at his eyes, contemplating a shower when his bedroom door eased open.

“Honey?”

Michael looked up at his mother, standing there in her bathrobe and slippers, holding a mug in her hand. “Hey.”

“You’re up early,” she smiled. “I just said goodbye to Ash.”

Michael swallowed, looking down at his hands. “Something happened last night, mum.”

“Oh, I know,” Karen smiled, entering the room further. “I should be offended that you think I don’t know what’s going on between you two.”

Michael frowned, looking up at her in confusion. He was stuck on the idea that maybe his sneaking around with Ashton wasn’t as _sneaky_ as he thought, and he knew that that was a conversation he’d have to have with his mum another time.

“No,” he sighed, patting his bed. “I got a call this morning from Calum.”

She crossed the room to sit down on his bed, taking a sip from her mug. “Everything okay?”

Michael sighed. “No, not really, mum. Ben and Sarah were in a car accident last night. They, uh…they didn’t make it.”

Karen’s eyebrows dipped into a confused frown. “What?”

“They were coming back from up the coast and hit a kangaroo and uh, neither of them survived.”

“Oh God,” Karen whispered. “Ruby?”

Michael shook his head quickly. “She’s fine, she was with Calum and Luke.”

“Oh,” Karen whispered softly, setting her mug down on her son’s messy bedside table. “Are you okay?”

“Better than Luke,” Michael mumbled. “I can’t imagine what he’s going through, mum.”

She moved forward to hug him, rubbing his back like she always did when he was upset. “Me either, sweetheart.”

He buried his face in her robe. “I’m going to go up to the hospital.”

“Alright,” she murmured. “I should wake your father, tell him the news. Are there any plans yet?”

Michael shrugged, sitting up. “Not that I know of. Calum was at the hospital when he called. I think everyone is still in shock.”

“Of course,” Karen mumbled. “Why don’t you have a shower, wake up at bit?” she suggested. “You can take my car to the hospital.”

 Michael nodded, reaching out to play with the tie of her robe. “Do you think you could stay for a few more minutes? Hold my hand?”

She moved closer towards him, and reached out to lace their fingers together.

It was the calm he needed, his head hanging low as he tried to process the last few hours, unsure if things would ever be okay again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it all comes crashing down :( If you haven't read Lay Me Down, things are going to get mighty confusing for you! If you have, unfortunately you know what's coming and you know how brutal it will be! But there is still so much more to come! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone reading, subscribing and leaving kudos, and big thanks to KellyWoods, shutupluke, thominhoplease, DrunkOnDrarry, Skagger, fluffypsychopaths, CupidGenie, daisy_maus & Migs for their comments!
> 
> xoxo


	9. Chapter 9

Michael wasn’t sure how long he stared at Luke on his doorstep, his mouth hanging open in surprise. The shell of his best friend was standing there, with flat hair, bags under his eyes and a tiny baby cradled to his chest.

When he spoke his speech was dull, his shoulders sagging as Michael invited him in, catching his mother’s eyes from where she stood in the living room, almost frozen in shock. He gave her a pained smile, and followed Luke, finding him slumped on the couch in his man cave.

Michael took a seat beside him, at a loss of what to say. He’d never lost anyone close before, apart from his grandfather when he was younger. He wasn’t equipped to deal with things like this, but he felt like he should apologize.

Because he was _sorry_. He was so sorry this had happened to Luke and his family, and to everyone else who loved and knew Ben and Sarah. Because they didn’t deserve this, and Michael wanted to tear Luke open just so he could tear out all the horrors of the past few hours.

“Luke, I’m so sorr-“

“I’m sorry,” Luke whispered, cutting the apology short. “For our fight about Harry. It was stupid.”

Michael could feel his mouth open, a frown settling on his face. He wasn’t sure how Luke found the strength inside himself to apologize when Michael wasn’t even sure what to _say_.

“Wha? I mean…what?” Michael sputtered, his frown deepening. “Luke, Jesus. The last thing you need to be doing now is apologize.”

Luke shrugged, sitting back further on the couch. “It was stupid,” he repeated.

Michael’s fingers threaded into his slightly damp hair, tugging at in frustration. “Are you okay? I mean, I know you’re not,” he began with a sigh. “What can I do?”

He felt out of his depth, inexperience and underqualified. He wished he’d insisted that Ashton stay, because Ashton would know what to do. Michael was on the verge of panic as Luke started to dissolve, their hands intertwined as the sobs started, and Michael hated that he felt relief when Luke’s cries started to fade, and his best friend fell into exhausting unconsciousness.

**

“You’re smoking?” Michael asked softly, stepping outside of his house and onto the front porch, spying Calum leaning up against the brickwork.

The other man looked at the half-smoked cigarette in his hand and over at Michael. “Situation calls for it, yeah?”

Michael nodded, pulling the door shut behind him. “Are you okay?”

Calum shrugged, throwing the cigarette to the ground and crushed it out with the toe of his sneaker. “Kind of numb. How’s Luke?”

“Asleep,” Michael sighed, leaning against the house beside his friend. “Mum has the baby.”

Calum nodded. “It’s good. That he’s sleeping.”

Michael bumped his shoulder against Calum’s. “I don’t know what to say man. To Luke? To you?”

“There’s nothing,” Calum sighed. “You get that, right? I’ve been trying all morning to say the right things to him, and it’s like he’s not even in this world anymore. He’s so angry at his family and he’s attached to Ruby and he’s just… _broken_ , Mike.”

“I know,” Michael mumbled. He’d seen firsthand just how bad Luke was handling everything and the crippling inferiority he felt because he couldn’t help.

“There’s no handbook, you know?” Calum sighed, pushing off the house to pace the line of the garden. “There’s no one telling you what you should say to someone who just lost everything.”

“Are you okay?” Michael asked softly.

Calum managed a tight, grim smile. “I don’t know what I am. I’m trying to just stay focused on Luke and Ruby, because we’re fucked if I lose it, right? Luke’s not with it enough to take care of himself or the baby, so I’m it.”

“Do you worry about what might happen with her? Like, now that Ben and Sarah are gone?”

Calum sighed, chewing on his bottom lip. “Luke’ll take her,” he mumbled. “Like, I can already see that he doesn’t want to be separated from her, that he feels responsible in some fucked up way. It’s the last piece he has of Ben and Sarah, y’know?”

Michael nodded, and could see enough pain in Calum’s eyes not to ask about Ruby any further. There were confessions trapped behind his teeth that Michael knew he wasn’t ready to let spill out, and there was no point in saying anything, anyway.

“I’m sorry, Cal,” Michael mumbled. “For _your_ loss, you know?”

Calum smiled tightly. “Thanks. And thanks for taking care of Luke.”

“I’ll do anything, okay? To try and help, just say the word.”

Calum smiled tiredly as the front door opened, and Karen appeared with a crying Ruby.

“Sorry boys,” she smiled. “Calum, is she due for a bottle?”

Calum dug into his pocket for a piece of gum and nodded, and headed towards the front door. “Yeah, thanks Mrs C,” he murmured, lifting the baby out of her arms.

Michael watched him take the baby inside, and he caught his mother’s eye.

“Should I ask?” she said softly.

“I don’t have an answer, mum,” Michael sighed. “They’re…it’s just…”

“I know, sweetie,” she smiled sadly. “Luke?”

“Sleeping,” Michael nodded.

“I’ll go see if Calum needs a hand,” his mum announced, and ducked back inside.

Michael hesitated, pulling his phone out of his pocket to see if he maybe missed a call or text from Ashton.

He ignored the way his heart tugged when there were no new notifications on his phone.

**

Michael wasn’t sure how long he sat on the couch after Calum and Luke left, until the door was swinging open, and Ashton was filling the doorway.

“Mikey?”

He looked up, taking in Ashton’s skinny jeans and t-shirt, and managed a tight smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Ashton murmured, stepping into the room and sat down on the couch. “Sorry I didn’t call.”

Michael all but burrowed into his side, pressing his nose against his chest. “S’okay,” he mumbled. “How’d your family take it?”

“Rough,” Ashton sighed, curling his arm around Michael’s shoulders. “I don’t know if I even believe it yet.”

Michael nodded. “Luke and Cal were here earlier and it’s just horrible.”

Ashton nodded. “I spoke to Cal before I came over. They were leaving Luke’s parents place. He said they’re meeting with the lawyers tomorrow about the will and are thinking about a midweek double funeral.”

“Shit,” Michael sighed. “Are you alright? I feel like that question is stupid, but I want to know, wanna help you.”

Ashton kissed him softly, fingertips sliding against his jaw. “I’m okay. How are you?”

“Okay,” Michael murmured. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Michael kissed him again, their mouths falling into a slow, lazy rhythm, and Michael felt infinitely better because of it. It was like Ashton’s kiss was putting him back together again, and he wasn’t going to stop and question what that meant, he was going to steal the comfort for himself.

“Mikey.”

Michael kissed down over his jaw and down his throat, fingers dragging the collar of Ashton’s shirt to the side so his lips could press over his collarbone.

“At least lock the door,” Ashton mumbled.

“Mum knows,” Michael mumbled. “We’re not as stealthy as we thought.”

Ashton groaned, and Michael swung a leg over him, settling in his lap, his mouth still sliding down the older man’s throat.

“Are you sure?” Ashton asked, his hands sliding up Michael’s back. “I mean, are you sure you want to?”

Michael pulled away, his lips and chin a little raw from Ashton’s stubble. “Do you not want to? Is it weird?”

“No,” Ashton rushed out softly. “It’s not weird. I just don’t want it to be a band aid.”

Michael settled more comfortably in Ashton’s lap his hands on the older man’s shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

Ashton gripped his hips, leaning up to kiss him softly. “Don’t be. It’s just so fucked up.”

“I know,” Michael mumbled. “I just missed you,” he admitted, and ignored the way his stomach clenched. “I just feel all these emotions every second and nothing makes sense.”

Ashton kissed him again. “Can I stay the night again?”

“Yeah,” Michael whispered. “I want you to.”

“Michael,” Ashton whispered, kissing his bottom lip. “Can I take your shirt off?”

Michael visibly shivered, his fingers tightening in the shoulder of Ashton’s shirt as he nodded his head, the other man’s strong hands sliding his shirt up and over his head, throwing it to the floor.

He leant in and kissed Ashton passionately, his tongue pressing forward into his mouth, and he knew he should stop, that he should let the grief hit him, should _think_ about how things had changed with Ashton so quickly and without warning.

But he didn’t stop – _couldn’t_ stop – and before long they were naked, and Michael was spread out over the coffee table with Ashton inside of him.

Michael let out a soft, laboured sigh, one hand tangling through Ashton’s hair, giving a soft tug.

“Hey,” Ashton whispered, one hand curled around Michael’s bare thigh, the other reaching for his hand.

Michael felt his stomach dip as their fingers laced together, felt things drop onto a deeper level he wasn’t ready for and he was going to pull his hand away, going to kiss Ashton deep and dirty to break the moment, but he was stuck.

“Ash,” Michael whimpered, arching his back off the coffee table.

Ashton’s lips dragging down his exposed throat, his hips rolling in perfect thrusts. It was slow and sensual, and their bodies moving in sync, Michael’s erection trapped between them.

Michael moaned softly, lifting his head to kiss Ashton, tugging at his hair. “M’close.”

“Yeah,” Ashton groaned softly, kissing down Michael’s neck again to suck a mark into the base of his throat.

Michael got lost in it; the press of Ashton inside of him, their hands joined tightly and the feeling of the older man’s lips on his skin. Ashton was showing him sex he’d never had before, the kind of sex shared between two people who had a connection.

He was thinking of that as he came, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as Ashton groaned on top of him, his grip on Michael’s thigh tightening as he came soon after, panting into the younger man’s throat.

Michael hated the tears in his eyes as Ashton pressed soft kisses to his neck, hated the way he dropped the older man’s hand in favour of cupping his shoulder, staring at the ceiling and blinking quickly to clear his eyes.

It was maybe a mistake, the whole damn thing.

But when Ashton _looked_ at him the way he did, and touched Michael in the way he did, the younger man was hopeless to stop the way his heart clenched. And he didn’t _want_ that. He wanted what he thought they were doing; casual, friends with benefit sex with no strings attached.

All of a sudden there were strings – _tethers –_ that bound him tightly to Ashton and now he felt like he was in too deep.

“You okay?”

Michael blinked, groaning as Ashton pulled out of him, and felt pain in his hips as the glow of his orgasm diminished.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, sitting up slowly to reach for his pants, pulling them on quickly before putting on his jumper.

Ashton dressed too, sitting down on the couch as Michael sat on the edge of the coffee table.

“You said your mum knows?”

Michael tugged his jumper down over his fingers and nodded. “I don’t know how, and if it’s because she _heard_ us, I’ll die.”

Ashton squeezed his knee. “I told my mum this morning.”

“Oh,” Michael said softly.

“She was surprised but took it well,” he smiled.

Michael felt a little nauseous, felt backed into a corner that he couldn’t escape from. “Do you have to work tomorrow?”

Ashton shook his head. “I thought we could go see Luke and Cal? Take some groceries and see if we can help out.”

Michael nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

He was relieved when Ashton yawned, rubbing distractedly at his crotch and muttered something about the bathroom, and Michael let out a slow breath as the other man left the room, leaving him sitting there in disbelief and confusion.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone reading and subscribing and leaving kudos, it's so appreciated. The comments are incredibly special too, because there is no bigger compliment than people taking their time to leave a little comment to express what they like!
> 
> Like Skagger, DrunkOnDrarry, Coco_Decon, thominhoplease, shutupluke, Migs, calum_xxx_hood, CupidGenie & tigerlily_sunshine did. Thanks so much!
> 
> xoxo


	10. Chapter 10

Michael and Calum lay side by side on Michael’s queen sized bed, fingers tangled together between them and pressed together from shoulder to hip. Michael was staring up at the ceiling, the only white surface left in his bedroom.

He knew that he should redecorate at some point. The Dragon Ball Z posters were a phase that had passed years ago, and some of his Green Day posters were frayed at the edges, but their familiarity meant _home_ , and Michael was a homebody through and through.

They hadn’t exchanged words in almost thirty minutes, after Calum had shown up at the Clifford’s door an hour ago, looking worse for wear and somewhat dishevelled. Michael had sensed something was up, and as soon a Calum told him, he’d felt the same fear that ran through Calum, run through him, too.

“I said I was going out for milk,” Calum whispered softly.

Michael almost jumped, unprepared to hear his voice, especially at the low volume, his usually confident best friend reduced to the exhausted individual beside him.

“I should get back.”

Michael squeezed his hand. “Tell him there was a traffic jam.”

“Yeah,” Calum sighed. “Okay.”

Michael bit down on his bottom lip, feeling completely out of his depth. He didn’t hold much faith in his comforting abilities, but he knew that Calum being there with him meant he had to _try_.

“We should talk about it,” he said softly. “This is big, Cal.”

“I know,” Calum whispered softly. “I think I’m still in shock.”

Michael wanted to turn his head to look at Calum, but refrained. “What did you say? When he told you?”

“I was just really calm,” Calum mumbled. “Told him I was with him, that we’d be okay.”

“Shit,” Michael whispered. “But you’re not?”

Calum swallowed and squeezed his hand. “I’m blind sighted,” he admitted. “Like, I knew things would end up like this, but there was a part of me that thought she’d go to Andy and Liz, or Sarah’s parents. So when he told me I wasn’t surprised, but I’d put off thinking about what it’d mean if she ended up with Luke.”

Michael sighed. “You have to tell him, Cal.”

“No,” Calum said quickly. “Absolutely not. I’m just in shock, okay? We’re a few months in and now his brother and sister died and he’s going to be a dad. You don’t just break someone’s heart when they’re already broken, Mikey.”

“But you can’t tell him what he wants to hear when you feel this way.”

Calum pulled his hand away and sat up, running a hand through his untamed curls. “It’s just shock,” he insisted again. “But I like Ruby, and she makes Luke so happy, and it’s not like he has much left to be happy about anymore. The funerals are on Thursday.”

“Are you sure?” Michael asked. “That you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

“Do you?” Calum questioned, looking down at him.

Michael frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Did you think I’d forget that when I called you the other night, you told me Ashton was with you?”

Michael sighed, sitting up himself and moving up to lean against the headboard. “I was hoping you would.”

“You told me it was casual.”

“It is,” Michael insisted. “The line got blurred, that’s all.”

Calum’s eyebrows went up. “The _line_ got _blurred_? It went from casual sex to sleepovers?”

Michael fidgeted. “I fucked up, okay? I let it get too familiar too quick.”

“Shit,” Calum whispered. “What’s Ash think?”

“Too much,” Michael sighed. “He’s told his mum like it’s some kind of _thing_.”

Calum nudged Michael’s foot with his. “Looks like I’m not the only one in deep.”

“Yeah, but at least I’m going to nip mine in the bud.”

“Sure,” Calum scoffed. “This is what _happens_ when you sleep with your best friend.”

“Yeah, and you’d know.”

Calum’s face dropped for a moment before he sighed. “My boyfriend has a baby now.”

“Yeah,” Michael mumbled. “And you’re what, a dad now too?”

“No,” Calum said quickly, his eyebrows furrowing. “No way, it’s just…Luke has a kid and he loves her and I think she’s cool and we’ll figure it out.”

Michael reached out to squeeze his ankle. “Figure it out before things get even more complicated.”

“Right back at you.”

**

Michael was a liar.

He knew he was and he saw the way his mother’s eyebrow went up when Ashton landed at their door later that same day, looking dishevelled and tired and lacing their fingers together as they went down the hall to Michael’s bedroom.

He knew even as they fell onto his bed and kissed and undressed each other slowly, Ashton’s hands soft and gentle on his thighs as he went down on Michael, bringing him to the brink quickly and sharply pushed him over.

Michael thought about what Calum said, about knowing what he was getting into, about _nipping it in the bud_. How this wasn’t just a random stranger, this was _Ashton_.

“Mikey,” Ashton whispered breathlessly, kissing him messily once Michael had stopped trembling after his orgasm.

Michael’s fingers slid through his curls, tugging gently. “Sit up,” he mumbled, teeth clashing gently. “Gonna ride you.”

Ashton groaned, his movements slow and clumsy as he pulled himself further up the bed, sitting down quickly, leaning up against the headboard.

Michael didn’t look at his eyes, didn’t look anywhere but his dick, really. He wasn’t sure why it wasn’t weird this time, because it _should_ be. It was his best friend’s hard dick, right in his face and Michael wasn’t thinking about Ashton, at least not any deeper thoughts than wanting his dick inside him.

He climbed into Ashton’s lap and kissed over his shoulder, hand fumbling towards his bedside table for lube. He tugged open the drawer, his hand holding onto Ashton as he leant over, eyebrows knitted together as he looked for a condom.

Ashton’s mouth pressed against his throat, running down his shoulder and Michael _whimpered,_ momentarily distracted.

“Ash,” he groaned, teeth biting into his full bottom lip.

“Sorry,” Ashton mumbled.

Michael let out a slow breath and resumed his search, coming up with a half empty bottle of lube, and no rubber.

“Shit,” Michael whispered.

“What?”

Michael looked over at him, their eyes meeting for a second before Michael looked away. “I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh,” Ashton mumbled. “Man cave?”

Michael shook his head. “I guess, uh, we…used them all,” he mumbled.

“Oh,” Ashton repeated, his hands rubbing Michael’s thighs gently. “Well, we could, uh. Not…use one.”

Michael looked up at him quickly, eyes a little wide.

“But no,” Ashton said quickly as their eyes met. “No, it’s okay. We don’t…that’s okay, Mikey.”

“Shut up,” Michael sighed, looking away from his earnest hazel eyes. “I’ve never done that before.”

“Really?” Ashton questioned softly. “Harry doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to be responsible.”

Michael scoffed. “Excuse me? Just because he isn’t, doesn’t mean I am too.”

“I didn’t mean you were irresponsible,” Ashton insisted. “Just…that he’s…”

“A jerk,” Michael supplied. “I think I know that more than you do.”

They fell silent and Michael looked away, still aware he was naked and in Ashton’s lap and still _hard,_ dammit.

“C’mon,” Ashton eased softly, his fingers sliding up Michael’s thighs, over the faded bruise marks he’d left the week previous. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not _mad_ ,” Michael huffed. “I’m offended.”

“I’m sorry,” Ashton murmured. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, okay?”

Michael looked at a freckle on Ashton’s shoulder and sighed. “I’m _clean,_ okay?”

“Okay?”

Michael rolled his eyes. “If we’re going to screw without a condom it’s important that we’re _honest_ ,” he pointed out.

“Oh,” Ashton nodded, his hands pulling Michael in further. “I am, too. I’ve never not used a condom before either.”

“Oh, really?” Michael asked snootily. “Not with all the chicks you fuck?”

Ashton rolled his eyes. “Why are you so hung up on the fact that I’m bisexual?”

_Because I think you’ll leave me for a woman._

Michael almost choked, feeling his throat constrict as he cheeks flushed and he desperately shoved the emotion and insecurity that that thought bought out back into the tiny little box it had escaped from.

“I’m not,” he mumbled softly.

Ashton smiled, leaning forward to kiss him gently. “It’s only been you for ages, okay? I hadn’t been with anyone in about six months.”

Michael nodded, unsure why that information made him feel safe. He knew that Ashton knew he’d been with Harry only _days_ before they first slept together, and for a few seconds Michael was _embarrassed_ by that.

“Don’t judge me,” Michael said quickly, his eyes downcast. “About Harry, alright?”

“Hey,” Ashton said softly, fingers sliding under his chin to raise his head. “I don’t, okay? And I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

Michel nodded, leaning in to kiss him softly, wanting to forget the ugliness of his relationship with the Brit, because in all the time he’d spent with Harry, he’d never felt like this.

And that in itself was something he wanted to forget, and he it was easy to as Ashton’s tongue pressed into his mouth and reminded Michael of the physical pull between them, and he was able to forget the emotional side – which he knew he had to address at some point – and favoured the heat thrumming under his skin.

It didn’t take long to find the heat once more, Ashton’s fingernails marking up Michael’s inner thighs as he tugged him closer, fingers prodding gently at Michael’s entrance once he’d spilled lube over his fingers.

Michael pulled away from his mouth to whine, his head tossed back as he felt two of Ashton’s long fingers press inside him. The stretch was heavenly, his toes curling as he fought the urge to hurry the other man along, fingers gripping Ashton’s shoulders.

The older man’s mouth pressed to his throat as his fingers scissored inside him, Michael’s head tipped back as he tried to keep from pushing back against the pressure.

“It’s enough,” Michael whined as Ashton’s fingers pressed against his prostate for what felt like the thousandth time, taking his sweet time in preparing him. “C’mon,” Michael slurred softly. “It’s enough.”

Ashton’s fingers curled again as he kissed up Michael’s throat to his lips, kissing him quickly as he eased his fingers out and fumbled with the lube.

Michael panted impatiently, openly watching as Ashton spilled the clear gel into his palm and jerked himself off.

“Like that?” Ashton mumbled.

Michael looked up guiltily, his cheeks flushing as he saw Ashton’s cocky grin. “Shut up,” he mumbled. “Your dick is hot, jeez.”

Ashton laughed, wiping off the excess lube on the sheets and pulled Michael closer. “You’re hot.”

“Shut up,” Michael mumbled, hands on Ashton’s shoulders as he eased up onto his knees, biting down on his bottom lip as one of Ashton’s hands cupped his hip, the other reaching between them.

Michael wished he could see, wished he could make it more about the dirty side of sex, because it was getting too much. But he folded, like a goddamn shaky house of cards, and his mouth sought out Ashton’s as he felt the soft press of the other man’s dick against his entrance.

It took a few tries before Ashton was pressing inside of him, and Michael was hiccupping softly into his mouth, letting gravity guide him as he quickly felt the other man bottom out inside of him as he was seated completely in his lap.

“Jesus Mikey,” Ashton whispered, his hands reaching up to cup his jaw, tilting his head to kiss him passionately, their tongues meeting as Michael settled.

Michael didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about the shivers running up his spine because Ashton was inside of him – _without_  a condom, holy _shit_ – and he felt the strange, overwhelming emotions threaten to spill out of him in tears.

“Ash,” he whispered softly, pulling his mouth away to press his face into Ashton’s throat.

“I’ve got you,” Ashton promised softly, hands sliding over Michael’s shoulders gently.

Michael shivered, rocking his hips back gently before letting out a broken moan. It was so _good_ , unlike anything else he’d felt, and it was enough to rip him out of himself, to remind himself that this was _bad_.

_Wrong._

Michael sat up, his eyes focusing on Ashton’s bare chest, not wanting to see his eyes or his curls or his hands. This was just _sex_ , and he rolled his hips a few times to get a motion going, feeling the pleasure spark up his spine and he made the decision to take the pleasure only.

The emotions were a non-issue, pushed deep down inside himself, because if there was any hope of him surviving himself, he had to think of Ashton as a dick. A dick Michael wanted inside him, and that was it.

So he bounced and rocked his hips and rotated them slowly and tuned out the sound of Ashton moaning, and bit down on his bottom lip so hard he tasted blood.

The orgasm was lacklustre, nothing more than a moment of satisfaction before he just felt _wrong_ , because Ashton was coming inside him a few moments later, and the feeling of it was wasted on him. He had to force out a few moans, not wanting Ashton to ask questions, but Michael was sick about it, even after they cleaned up and Ashton was tugging him in to curl around his back to fall asleep.

Michael couldn’t sleep.

He lay awake staring at the wall for hours, trying to get away from Ashton’s grasp, and punishing himself because he truly didn’t want to be without the other man’s touch.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, Michael is screwed, isn't he?? Then again, so is Calum! I'm so mean to these boys! :(
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading/subscribing and leaving kudos, and super big thanks to DrunkOnDrarry, Skagger, shutupluke, aldal, CupidGenie, thominhoplease, disappointment, asickburn0ut & Migs for their comments!
> 
> xoxo


	11. Chapter 11

Michael gripped Luke around the waist tightly, his nose pressed into the stiff shoulder seam of Luke’s suit, feeling the younger man tremble against him.

It was a particularly cold day, and it was so goddamn fitting it was almost laughable, because they’d somehow managed to survive an awful funeral service in a tightly packed chapel, and were now standing in the frigid weather around a garden, bearing the Hemmings name plaque.

There were only two smaller plaques on the large stone, holding the names of Luke’s paternal grandparents who’d passed a few years earlier, and the garden felt _lonely_. Michael figured that in a cruel twist of fate, Luke’s grandparents wouldn’t be alone anymore, as the ashes of Ben and Sarah were laid to rest beside them.

There was only close family sitting on crappy folding chairs, with close friends standing towards the back. Michael had been itching to reach out to Luke on the slow walk down from the chapel to the garden, and hadn’t hesitated when Luke had crumbled against his chest.

They embraced for the longest time, as Michael listened as Luke’s breath went from slow, laboured sounds into something more panicked before evening out again. It was _painful_ , and it made Michael feel sick to his stomach.

“Babe?”

Luke lifted his head from Michael’s shoulder to see Calum and he nodded.

Michael didn’t want to let him go, because Luke looked like his legs could crumble out from underneath him at any moment. But Calum was there, smiling tightly at him before wrapping his arm around Luke’s waist and led him over to one of the folding chairs, waiting until Luke had sat down before passing Ruby over to him.

Michael moved to stand beside Ashton behind the row of seats, his fingers immediately reaching out for the older man’s.

Ashton tangled their fingers together, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Okay?”

Michael nodded – a blatant lie – and watched as other people gathered with the Hemmings family, awaiting the preacher at the head of the garden.

He delivered a simple message, and gave everyone time in silence to contemplate things – how awful death was, how cruel it was that Ben and Sarah were gone – and the sadness was so thick that Michael felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Luke’s shoulders were shaking with silent sobs, Calum’s arm curled around him and Michael felt his chin tremble.

Ashton dropped his hand in favour of sliding his arm around his waist, underneath his black suit jacket, and squeezed Michael’s hip.

Michael bit down on his bottom lip, the gentle reminder that Ashton was _there_ threatening to bring the emotion out of him. He turned, wrapping his arms around his strong shoulders, letting out a few deep, haggard breaths before pulling himself together, straightening up and wiping at his face.

Ashton pulled him close, and Michael didn’t fight it. He didn’t want to push him away, he didn’t want to stand there without his warmth.

He wasn’t sure how long they all lingered there, as Andy and Liz buried their eldest son’s ashes, Sarah’s parents doing the same for their daughter, and exchanged hugs with one another. There were white roses laid in the garden by Luke and Jack, and pink ones laid by Sarah’s sisters.

It was just so horrible, and watching Luke be embraced by his brother was painful. Luke was stiff, an obligatory arm curling around Jack’s back for just a moment before he was stepping aside and accepting a hug from his mother, Ruby curled to his chest.

“Jesus,” Calum whispered, stopping beside Michael.

“Hi,” Michael greeted softly.

“Hey,” Calum said with a grim smile. “Thanks for being here.”

“Definitely,” Ashton murmured. “Of course, Cal.”

Calum nodded. “Today was harder on him than I thought it would be, and I expected the worst, or so I thought,” he mumbled.

“Shit,” Michael whispered. “I want to hug him until he feels better.”

“Do you have an eternity to spare?” Calum asked tiredly. “Because I don’t even think that’d be enough.”

“We could watch Ruby for you?” Ashton offered. “Let you two get some rest?”

“Thanks,” Calum sighed. “He won’t go for it, but thanks for the offer. She’s the only thing he can focus on that makes it a little better, you know?”

Michael curled his arm around his oldest friend and squeezed his shoulder. “How is everyone else? Liz? Andy?”

“Keeping it together,” Calum shrugged. “Liz is the mum, you know? She’s used to organizing her boys, so I think she finds some peace in organizing all of it, but once today is over, it’s done, you know?”

“How’d they take the news that Luke would be taking Ruby?” Ashton asked softly.

“They’re cautious,” Calum admitted. “No one is saying it, but they’re worried if he’s in any state to take care of her.”

“Shit,” Michael whispered again. “I’m gonna go hug him, okay? I can’t just stand here.”

Ashton squeezed his hip and Michael’s eyes met his, and he leant in to kiss him softly, just a soft press of their lips before he was moving away, approaching Luke from where he stood to the side of the garden, Ruby in Liz’s arms and his own wrapped around himself.

“Come here,” Michael whispered, opening his arms, and Luke fell into them.

He let out a soft sob, and Michael squeezed him tighter, hand cupping the back of his head. There was nothing he could say, and he knew that now. That Luke didn’t need his words, just needed to be held for as long as Michael could.

And he figured that if that was the best he could do, then he’d do it for as long as Luke wanted him to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this update took so long, I actually had a life for a few days there! And I'm also apologetic that this chapter is a short one, but it was much-needed, unfortunately! I hope you all like it regardless!
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading/subscribing/leaving kudos! And special thanks to shutupluke, thominhoplease, DrunkOnDrarry, Skagger, CupidGenie, aldal, asickburn0ut, Migs & daisy_maus for their incredibly complimentary comments! It's much appreciated!
> 
> xoxo


	12. Chapter 12

In the two weeks following the funeral, Michael didn’t take Ashton’s calls. He was incredibly relieved when after three days of unanswered texts and phone calls, Ashton stopped trying to contact him. And Michael spent way too much time thinking about what that _meant_ , and that was the final straw.

Ignoring Ashton was the right decision, and as he threw himself into work without the distraction, it was only further proof that whatever he had with Ashton was better off abandoned, than trying to keep the box of the emotions inside him firmly closed.

Plus, Calum had gone back to training, and had started dropping in on his way home, and they’d spend an hour or so drinking enough beer for Calum to forget his worries, but not enough to put him over the limit.

Sometimes they’d talk, other times Michael would sit with him on the back patio while Calum chain smoked and talked about soccer. Then he’d brush his teeth with the spare Michael kept in his bathroom and then he’d be off, leaving Michael spending an hour thinking about his friends, about their situation, and how his drama with Ashton was nothing in comparison.

That’s when he’d kick himself into action, distracting himself with work or TV or Green Day so he wouldn’t have to think about how stupid he was.

But he should’ve known Ashton wouldn’t let sleeping dogs lie.

And maybe he did, deep down, and maybe he _wanted_ Ashton to come back.

But he was still surprised when he appeared in his doorway one night, after Michael thought his mother had gone to bed, but clearly not, because Ashton was _there_ , looking rumpled and annoyed and his eyes were kind of wild and Michael _really_ wanted to have sex with him.

“So, I’ve given you two weeks,” Ashton started, entering his bedroom and softly slammed the door shut after him.

That was Ashton, polite even when he was pissed off.

“And I figured you’d call at some point, because at the very _least_ , we’re friends. But imagine my surprise when three days go past, and nothing. Then a week; _nothing_. Then I’m sitting on my fucking couch at home and thinking about you, like I have for the last _two weeks_ and I got sick of fucking waiting, so what’s the _problem_ , Michael?”

Michael was speechless, sitting on his bed in mess of blankets and pillows, with his hair a mess and wearing the t-shirt he’d been wearing for the last three days, and was unable to find any words.

“Well?” Ashton demanded, shrugging out of his leather jacket and threw it over the back of Michael’s desk chair.

“I, uh,” Michael fumbled. “I’m _sorry_?”

Ashton rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.”

“Well you’re kind of freaking me out!” Michael said shrilly.

“Well you’ve kind of been treating me like shit!”

Michael frowned, pushing back the covers so he could stand up. “That’s not fair.”

“You want to talk about what’s _fair_?” Ashton demanded incredulously. “How about you kissing me at the funeral, Mikey? On the mouth, in front of our friends, in front of _God_?” he demanded sarcastically.

Michael rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ, I was _sad_ , okay? It was a fucking funeral and I was upset and I kissed you. Do you want me to apologize for it?”

“I want you to _explain_ it!” Ashton shouted. “Holding my hand, letting me sleep over, letting me _come inside you_!”

Michael could feel his cheeks flush, and he looked away, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt.

“Listen,” Ashton demanded, crossing the space to grab onto Michael’s upper arms, shaking him gently. “What’s going on? What do you _want_ from me?”

Michael’s mouth opened and shut, and he didn’t know what to say.

“Is this what you want?” Ashton asked softly, pushing him, backing Michael up into his dresser and grabbing his hips. “This?”

Michael swallowed, his eyes on Ashton’s chest.

“C’mon,” he prodded softly, squeezing Michael’s hips and pushed him harder against the dresser. “This?” He slowly rocked his hips forward, and Michael moaned.

“Yes,” Michael whispered softly, his hands coming to rest on Ashton’s forearms.

“This?” Ashton demanded, his hands moving to tug Michael’s shirt up and off, before starting on the drawstring to his shorts.

“Yes,” Michael gasped.

Ashton looped his fingers in his shorts and boxer briefs and pulled them both down before sliding his hand over Michael’s ass. “This?”

Michael nodded, his hands moving to shove Ashton’s shirt up enough so he could get his hands on his belt, undoing it quickly and shoving both the jeans and Ashton’s boxers down over his ass, finding the older man half hard already.

He moaned, feeling Ashton’s hand slide around his own erection, stroking him until he was begging for it.

“Jesus Michael, you didn’t have to avoid me for two weeks if this was all you wanted.”

Michael moaned, his head heavy with the sudden desire, his eyes half-closed as Ashton’s fingers slid over the curve of his ass, pressing between his cheeks teasingly.

Michael grabbed his hand, hurriedly tugging it out from between his legs as he quickly and messily sucked on two of Ashton’s fingers, tongue pressing over his index and middle finger quickly.

“Jesus,” Ashton groaned softly.

Michael smiled around his fingers, pulling them out of his mouth with a wet pop. “Yeah, okay?” he breathed out in a rush. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Ashton nodded, leaning in to crush their lips together before his fingers were pressing down between Michael’s cheeks again, teasing for just a moment before sinking inside.

And it _hurt_ , in the best damn way and Michael could feel the pleasure from his head to his toes and he licked into Ashton’s mouth quickly, pushing back against his fingers.

Ashton kept him pinned with his free hand, kissing him savagely as he prepped him with just two fingers, but there was nothing inside either of them that was going to stop them.

Michael let Ashton prep him a little longer than usual, because even though he was desperate for it, he wasn’t a masochist, and didn’t fancy doing permanent damage. He was hiccupping into Ashton’s mouth when it was _enough already_ when his knees were a little weak and he was concerned that he’d fall at any moment.

Ashton seemed to get it – he always did, goddammit – and wrapped his free arm around Michael’s waist, easing his fingers out gently.

Michael let out a shaky breath, his eyes glossy and his body weak as Ashton’s hands moved to cup his thighs, lifting him suddenly. Michael let out a squeak, his arms wrapping tightly around Ashton’s shoulders as the man moved them from the dresser to against the wall.

“Here?” Michael whispered breathlessly.

Ashton spat crudely into his palm, slicking himself up as he pushed Michael more firmly to the wall. “Right here,” he confirmed, bouncing the younger man in his arms slightly before he was guiding himself against Michael’s entrance.

The younger man let out a slow, shaky sigh, groaning softly at the warm promise of Ashton against him, at the sheer strength the other man displayed as he was pinned tightly to the wall, listening to his posters rip against the movement of his back as Ashton finally pressed inside.

Slowly, _too_ slow, and Michael’s head slammed back against the wall as he groaned, unable to contain the volume of his voice, because the burn was just right and Ashton was roughing him up and he _loved_ it.

Ashton’s teeth closed over his shoulder, dragging his lips over the muscle as he slammed his hand against the wall, holding Michael up with the other as he started to thrust into him, fast and hard.

Michael let out a choked sound of surprise, his fingers threading into Ashton’s hair, tugging at it sharply.

His heart thundered in his chest and he whined out softly, tugging at the other man’s hair to pull his face away from Michael’s neck so he could kiss him, messy and hard, but he didn’t _care_ , because he wanted that, the closeness and intimacy that he always felt whenever they were together.

“Ash,” he whined into his mouth.

“I know,” the other man groaned, adjusting his grip on Michael as he kept snapping his hips, pinning him to the wall.

“I won’t last,” Michael gasped, his nails digging into Ashton’s shoulders, scratching deep red lines into his skin.

“Been thinking about fucking you this like the whole drive over,” Ashton groaned. “Needless to say, I’m not lasting long either.”

Michael let out a throaty laugh, locking his ankles around Ashton’s hips and rolled back against his relentless thrusts. Ashton met him, again and again, intense pressure on his prostate on nearly every second slam of Ashton’s hips, and he could feel himself starting to let go, start to desperately crave what he’d denied himself of for two weeks.

“Shit,” Michael gasped out. “Gonna come.”

“Yeah?” Ashton whispered. “Want me to help you out?”

“No,” Michael gasped. “Gonna come just from you.”

Ashton groaned, biting down on Michael’s collarbone, drilling into him fast and hard, chasing his own orgasm.

Michael cried out, nails digging into Ashton’s shoulders again, grabbing onto him tightly as he was pushed more firmly against the wall, gasping so much he felt light headed. The pleasure swirled like a storm in his stomach, and he cried out Ashton’s name as he came, in frighteningly powerful pulses over their stomachs.

Ashton held him closer, sucked a bruise onto his neck and snapped his hips quickly, not giving Michael a moment of reprieve, even as he whimpered from overstimulation, cried out as his legs went numb and Ashton drove into him harder.

He was still crying out softly when Ashton came, thrusting through the sharp pluses inside of Michael, pulling out quickly and let the other man’s legs drop, but still held him close.

Michael could feel Ashton’s come on his thighs, could feel the ache in his lower back and his legs that he knew would last for days, and he knew that whenever he moved and felt the pain in his back or legs or _ass_ , he’d think of Ashton.

“You okay?” the older man panted softly.

Michael nodded, letting out a soft noise as he buried his face in his neck, still holding on tightly.

Ashton chuckled softly, his hands on Michael’s hips as he pulled him away from the wall slightly. “Bed?”

Michael nodded again, letting out a sigh as Ashton guided him towards his bed, pushing him down onto it gently.

Michael whimpered as his contact with Ashton was severed, and he blinked tiredly up at the other man, watching him look around before bending over, and reappearing with a handful of tissues, concentrating on taking care of the mess on Michael’s thighs.

“C’mere,” Michael called out to him, not caring in the least if there was come on him. He ached for the comfort Ashton always bought him.

The tissues were abandoned as Ashton slowly peeled off his clothes, letting the fabric fall to the floor before he was climbing into bed with him, tugging the sheet over them as he settled beside Michael.

“Hi,” Michael whispered, rolling towards Ashton, laying his palm on the other man’s chest.

“Hey,” he greeted, moving a strand of dark hair out of Michael’s face. “I missed you.”

“Same,” Michael admitted, moving close to kiss him gently. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay,” Ashton mumbled, cupping his jaw. “Sleepover?”

Michael nodded, leaning forward to kiss him again before he slid his arms around the older man, and fell into a blissful, deep sleep.

**

Michael winced as he leant against the kitchen counter, reaching for two mugs in the cabinet in the kitchen. He felt a sharp pain in his ass, his cheeks blushing red as he thought of _why_ , and that the reason for the pain was still sleeping naked in his bed.

Michael wasn’t sure why he was up so early, at almost six thirty in the morning, but he’d woken up to Ashton’s arm around him, and he’d needed to pee so bad, and figured he may as well make coffee while he was up.

He’d pulled on Ashton’s boxers and his shirt, the hem just skimming his ass and he felt a strange bubbling sensation in his stomach when he’d caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror. The t-shirt hung off his right shoulder, and it smelled so incredibly _Ashton_.

“Is that one of the shirts I bought you last Christmas?”

Michael jumped, almost dropping the mug in his hand as he whirled around to face his mother, standing beside the fridge in her robe with a teasing smile on her face.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me,” Michael panted, hand pressed to his chest.

“ _You_ scared _me_ ,” she responded, her slippers scuffing over the tiles as she joined him by the kettle. “I heard someone in the kitchen and thought we were being robbed,” she insisted. “I don’t think you’ve been up before me since Christmas of ’99.”

“Yeah, well,” Michael grumbled.

Karen smiled and retrieved her favourite mug from the dish drainer, setting it down beside the two Michael had lined up. The mug was old – almost twenty years to be precise – and had been made as a gift in Michael’s grade one class. He could remember manipulating the clay into a cup, and had stubbornly insisted on making it, even as most of his classmates abandoned their own ideas for a mug and chose something easier, like a plate.

He’d wanted to give his mum a coffee cup that she could use every morning for her much-needed cup of coffee, and it always bought a smile to his face whenever he saw it. The colour had originally been vibrant reds, blues and yellows, but it had faded over time. There were chips around the lip of the cup, and the handle was a couple more uses away from falling off, but it _meant_ something to him that she still insisted on using it.

“So, is that one of the ones I bought you?” she prodded again.

Michael looked over at his mum, at the knowing smile on her face and he rolled his eyes. “Jesus, obviously you know it’s not,” he pointed out, gesturing to the two cups he had lined up. “Obviously Ashton stayed last night and you’re trying to _torture_ me about it.”

She smiled. “Honey, after last night, I deserve to.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I was up when Ashton got here, and I was up long after you two were done.”

The realization dawned on Michael slowly, as if everything was in slow motion and he could _see_ the tsunami of humiliation coming for him, but he was powerless to stop it. It crashed over his head, sound roaring in his ears as the comprehension that his _mother_ had heard him having very loud, very passionate _sex_ sent nausea slamming through his body as the colour drained from his face.

“I was always open about this when you were younger,” she continued, “and I hope I can be now. You know I don’t begrudge you your personal time, but when your father and I are home, maybe you could be a little mor-“

“Oh God mum, stop talking,” Michael choked out.

“Honey,” she tried. “I’m not trying to embarrass you. I’m just asking you to be a little more considerate.”

Michael groaned, leaning over to bump his forehead against the kitchen counter, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

This _wasn’t_ happening. It couldn’t be. Michael knew that he hadn’t exactly been _silent_ the night before, but he didn’t think he’d been that loud either.

“I’ve never felt more humiliated,” he mumbled.

His mum rubbed his back. “Well don’t. Your father and I raised you to have an open view about sex. I understand people get caught up in the moment, and normally you’re very respectful.”

“Mum,” Michael whined, straightening up. “Can we please stop talking about this? _Please_?”

She smiled, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Sure, honey.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, and they fell into a comfortable silence as the kettle boiled.

Michael still felt like his skin was crawling the entire time he stood there, measuring out a teaspoon of coffee into each mug, and followed up with sugar and milk before the kettle sounded. He grabbed for it first, filling each mug and stirred the liquid quickly, spilling over the edges onto the bench.

“I’m just gonna go,” Michael mumbled.

“Okay,” his mum nodded. “And Michael? If the sounds weren’t obvious enough, the hickies and bite marks on your neck would’ve given it away anyway.”

Michael groaned, picking up the mugs and rushed out of the room as he listened to his mother cackle behind him.

**

Michael slammed his bedroom door shut behind him, paying no mind to the coffee spilling over the edges of the mugs in his hands, and leaving small dots on the carpet.

Ashton was still asleep – lucky _bastard_ – and Michael felt like waking him up and making him share the humiliation of being confronted by his mother about their _sex life_.

The memory made Michael groan, and he crossed the room to set the mugs down on the bedside table before laying down beside Ashton, glaring at his peaceful expression, and sharply jabbed him in the ribs with his finger.

Ashton frowned and groaned.

“Wake the fuck up,” Michael hissed softly.

“Whaaaat?” Ashton groaned out, his eyes fluttering open for a moment.

“You jerk,” Michael whispered. “My mum _heard_ us last night.”

“Last night?” Ashton repeated, rolling over on his back, his hand landing on his chest. “I, I don’t know?”

Michael rolled his eyes, pushing himself up on his elbow to stare down at the older man. “She heard us having sex, and cornered me in the kitchen about it. I will positively _die_ from humiliation if my dad heard too.”

Ashton blinked his eyes open, looking up at Michael. “She heard us?”

“Yes,” Michael hissed out. “She heard you _fucking_ me last night.”

“Oh,” Ashton mumbled. “Maybe you should come to my place sometime? No parents to overhear us.”

Michael rolled his eyes and jammed his fingers into Ashton’s ribs again. “Fuck you. It’d be a totally different situation if it was Harry or Lauren that overhead us.”

Ashton smirked. “I’m not stupid enough to fuck you at my mum’s house.”

Michael huffed, shoving him in annoyance before slumping down in his bed again.

Ashton woke up a little more, stretching his limbs out before rolling towards Michael, pulling him in. “I’m sorry your mum heard us.”

“Yeah, well,” Michael mumbled moodily. “ _You_ could go out there and take one for the team. She’s in the kitchen.”

“I would,” Ashton nodded. “But you’re wearing my clothes, and I think walking out there naked would create a whole other set of questions and concerns.”

Michael blushed, looking down at Ashton’s t-shirt. He had originally planned to take it off before Ashton woke up, but he figured that fate was against him _completely_ that morning, and he sighed.

“It’s cute,” Ashton commented softly, tugging at the collar of the shirt so he could lean in and pepper Michael’s neck with kisses. “You wearing my stuff, walking around here half naked.”

“Jesus, shut _up_ ,” Michael ground out. “I’m mad at you.”

“For what?” Ashton demanded. “We had some pretty amazing sex last night, if I do recall correctly.”

“That’s obviously not why I’m pissed,” Michael said smartly. “I just didn’t realize how loud I was.”

Ashton smiled, propping his head up on his hand. “It was the heat of the moment,” he justified. “And even if she didn’t hear us, I’ve marked you up pretty good.”

Michael reached up to run his fingertips over the mouth-shaped bruises on his throat. “So, what was that you said about your place?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favourite chapters so far! It really shows the complexity of the relationship Ashton and Michael have, and it shows that maybe Michael is not the only one burying his head in the sand...(and this one is a hell of a lot longer than the last!)
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading/subscribing and leaving kudos! I appreciate the love! Big thanks to irwah, thominhoplease, sky, annaisastupididiot, DrunkOnDrarry, Skagger, asickburn0ut & CupidGenie for their comments!
> 
> xoxo


	13. Chapter 13

Michael wasn’t sure what had changed between them, but since their two week break and subsequent reconciliation, things had felt different. It was more casual, friendlier, and Michael felt himself _laughing_ more when Ashton was around.

He’d even travelled into the city to see Ashton’s place, and realized guiltily that he’d never actually been there before. Ashton had lived in the studio apartment for years, and Michael had never seen the obscure art on the walls, or the fact that Ashton’s kitchen colour scheme was red and black and that his king sized bed was rarely ever made, but always inviting.

He’d spent three days there before his mum had called, not so subtly hinting that he was missed at home. He’d just been swept up, sitting on the balcony when Ashton was at work and working on his novel in the sunshine, and ordering take out whenever Ashton stumbled home tired.

It was domestic and fun and he liked it, a little too much.

So he’d headed home, but not before Ashton was pressing a key into his hand and scuffing the toes of his sneakers on the tiled floor of his kitchen and shrugging and saying the key hand off was _practical_ and _made sense_.

Michael just shoved it in his pocket and hid it in the back of his underwear drawer when he got home, not wanting to think about it.

The truth was Michael was comfortable, and it felt _nice_.

It was weeks of nice, of seeing Ashton every second day, spending time watching DVD’s and eating popcorn, talking about art and music and Ashton’s horrible taste in chips – Michael was a cheese and onion fan through and through, while Ashton preferred chicken – and they would always dissolve into laughter watching _The Office_ and holding hands.

Michael was coping with the emotions, and he was trying to just enjoy his time with the other man, because he was sick of pretending that he wasn’t _into_ it.

Because he always was, whenever Ashton showed up unexpectedly and kissed him at the front door, taking him to his room for a quickie or a chat or to ask his advice on some music he was working on. Those were his favourites, whenever Ashton was excited to talk to him and couldn’t wait until the end of the day, taking time off to drive home to see him.

Sometimes they didn’t talk at all, Ashton would strip down to his boxers (he always insisted he worked better half naked) and sit on the couch with his headphones in, listening to some music he’d been working on and taking notes while Michael would draw.

That was the case when the doorbell rang, and Michael got up to answer it pressing a kiss to Ashton’s bare shoulder as he passed by him, heading down the hall to pull the door open to reveal Luke.

Except it wasn’t just Luke, he had Ruby against his shoulder and she looked _big_ and it made Michael realize that he’d been so focused on Ashton and Calum, that he hadn’t put in the effort he should’ve to contact Luke.

It had been weeks since the funerals, weeks since they’d shared their embrace beside the family memorial garden. The guilt that it caused Michael made him feel sick, and he could see in Luke’s eyes that the connection was missed, the exchanged text messages clearly not enough.

“Can we just ghost over the apologies and be us again?”

Michael scratched at his nose, wondering if he was even worthy to be Luke’s friend again. He felt like a letdown, he knew it because he was just so damn awkward when it came to comfort, never knowing how to give it without making things difficult, so he tended to just… _not_.

“Of course,” he finally answered. “But, Ashton’s here.”

Luke’s cheeks coloured.

“He’s uh, he’s going soon,” Michael said uncomfortably.

Michael could feel the awkwardness settle between them, and he was suddenly melancholy, because if _this_ was what was left of his friendship with Luke, then he’d had no idea just how bad things had become.

He was stuck in his mental anguish for a moment, before Luke was speaking; _apologizing_.

“I’m sorry, Mikey.”

Michael frowned, his hand still on the doorknob. “What for?”

“For not being a friend.”

Michael swallowed, feeling the sadness settle inside him. He didn’t want it to be this way, didn’t want his best friend to be a stranger. He opened his mouth to say those words, but was quickly interrupted by Ashton.

“You almost done, babe? I’ve gotta get back by three!”

Michael watched as Luke’s cheeks turned a brighter shade of red, and felt embarrassment overtake his mouth as he stuttered out a reply, feeling bashful himself.

“I’ll go,” Luke said quickly. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

“No,” Michael said quickly, reaching out to stop him, but Luke stepped back.

For the first time, Michael wished Ashton hadn’t picked that day to stop in, that he wasn’t on both his and Luke’s mind in that moment.

They stumbled over awkward conversation before Ashton appeared, zipping up his _pants_ of all things, and if Luke didn’t already have a good idea as to why he was there on a Wednesday afternoon, he did now.

“Luke?”

Luke stepped further back when Ashton appeared. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I should’ve called Michael first, I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“It’s fine,” Ashton said softly, always welcoming and calming.

“No,” Luke insisted, and Michael could see him getting flustered.

Ashton wouldn’t take no for an answer, and Michael watched as Ashton insisted he come inside, and not before long, they were in the living room and Ashton was pressed beside him on the couch, Luke opposite them, Ruby on his knee.

They exchanged painfully awkward conversation until Ashton decided to bow out, and Michael didn’t feel truly calm until the older man had disappeared completely, and they were suddenly tripping over their words and finding common ground in their grief.

Michael only felt relief as they managed to grasp onto the common thread that held them together; their love for one another. Michael had always loved Luke, even when he’d hated him. There was something about him that was captivating. He was so sweetly natured, and the only person who would plainly tell Michael when he was being an asshole.

Luke had always felt _honest_ to Michael, and he felt himself start to relax and he talked about Ashton and about their casual arrangement (Michael wasn’t ready to admit anything else) and by the time a few hours had passed, they were both laughing and Michael was suggesting guys night out, and Luke was smiling.

And Michael made a promise to himself to keep that smile there as long as possible.

**

“Would you stop?”

Ashton laughed, removing his hands from Michael’s backside as the younger man shot him a pointed look.

The last thing he wanted was for Ashton to be feeling him up when Luke and Calum arrived, because he didn’t want to make this about _that_. He didn’t want to focus on the different dynamics in their friendships, he wanted to focus on the _friend_ part.

Because they’d all lost sight of their friendships over the past few months, and before, they would never go more than a few weeks without hanging out, just the four of them. But now, it had been months and Michael knew he had to make a concerted effort to keep them together, because without his friends, he didn’t know what he had.

But despite his insistence that things were _friendly_ , he couldn’t sit still having Ashton so close, being able to smell the expensive cologne he wore, and watched as his fingers drummed against the table they sat at.

Michael wanted to _kiss_ him, and he grabbed a hold of Ashton’s t-shirt and tugged him in, pressing a quick, hot kiss against his mouth.

“Oh,” Ashton mumbled against his lips, pulling back after a moment. “So, I’m not allowed to touch your ass, but you can kiss me like _that_?”

“Shut up,” Michael frowned, reaching up to wipe at his mouth where excess saliva had gathered. He wasn’t sure if it was his or Ashton’s, and it made him bite down on his fingertip for a moment.

Ashton smirked, picking up the bottle of beer in front of him and took a slow sip.

Michael wanted to snap at him again, about wiping that stupid _smirk_ off his face, but he had to bite his tongue as he saw Calum and Luke walk into the pub, their hands linked between them.

“Well that’s a good sign,” Ashton commented, clearly noticing the hand-holding as well. “Right?”

Michael nodded, feeling some sort of relief wash over him. “I need them to be okay, you know?”

Ashton rubbed his lower back gently, and lifted his hand in a wave towards their friends. “Lads!”

Calum smiled, leading Luke over to the table Michael had snagged, and pulled out his chair. “Gentlemen,” he greeted.

Luke looked a little sick, his lip ring trapped between his teeth. Michael reached across the table to touch his hand, offering a warm smile.

“Hi,” Luke said softly. “I left the baby with mum and I’m panicking.”

Calum rubbed his back. “She’s _fine_ ,” he said, and Michael could tell that it wasn’t the first time he’d said the words that evening.

“I know,” Luke sighed. “But I just-“

“I know,” Calum murmured, kissing his temple.

“Coronas?” Ashton offered, easing off his barstool.

Calum and Luke nodded, and Calum even followed Ashton after pressing a kiss to Luke’s forehead.

Michael waited until they were gone, his fingers tangling with Luke’s. “You okay? Or is it just the baby thing?”

Luke sighed, shrugging his shoulder. “I still feel like I’m weighing him down.”

“I’ll hit you,” Michael warned softly. “Because he _loves_ you and even if you were crushing him, that wouldn’t change.”

“I know,” Luke said softly, squeezing Michael’s hand. “I know he talks to you Mikey. I want to thank you for that.”

Michael wasn’t sure if he was even helping Calum, but they were seeing each other almost four days a week and Calum always seemed to leave lighter than when he’d arrived.

“How are things with Ash?”

Michael felt a smile settle on his lips. “It’s okay. Mum overheard us the other night,” he admitted.

“Oh,” Luke smiled. “Awkward?”

“You have no idea,” Michael said, huffing out a laugh. “She had to have a dig at me about it too.”

“That’s Karen,” Luke smiled. “I bet she’s happy you’re with someone like Ash. A good someone.”

Michael bit down on his bottom lip and shrugged his shoulder. “It just means she gets to make fun of me for all the hickies he leaves.”

Luke snorted. “Jesus, you two are like teenagers.”

Michael’s head turned to look at the man in question, wearing black skinny jeans and a blue t-shirt, leaning against the bar beside Calum, laughing at something their friend had said. Michael tried to keep his stomach from doing the odd clench it always did when he looked at Ashton, but he was powerless to stop it.

He was _so_ fucked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It feels like ages since I last updated! I hope you all enjoy this chapter, the domesticity is so much fun to write! Michael and Ashton just fit together so well!
> 
> Thanks for all the excitement over the last chapter! It was so fun to write, and I knew it would definitely get people fired up! Thank you to everyone who read/subscribed or left kudos and huge thanks to shutupluke, irwah, thominhoplease, chunkysalsa, Skagger, asickburn0ut, Migs, milecgv & Clairehatesyou for their comments!
> 
> xoxo


	14. Chapter 14

Michael wrinkled his nose, fanning his hands in front of his face as the acrid smoke from Calum’s cigarette wafted past him.

The other man rolled his eyes, stubbing the half-smoked cigarette out in the empty coke can he used as an ashtray.

“Happy?”

“Happy that I’m no longer exposed to passive smoking and the possibility of lung cancer? You’re damn right I am.”

Calum rolled his eyes again, digging into his pocket for some gum. “You know, considering you’re my best friend, you’re horribly judgemental.”

Michael responded with an eye roll of his own, nudging at Calum with his elbow.

Calum smiled, a genuine, tired kind of smile. “I do appreciate you letting me crash here when you’re busy.”

Michael snorted. “Busy? I’m never really busy.”

“You know what I mean,” Calum insisted. “You drop everything to chill with me, and I’m grateful.”

Michael smiled. “You’re always welcome here, you know that.”

They fell into comfortable silence, Calum’s grip around the bench seat of the patio setting on the Clifford’s back deck tight, nails dragging over chips in the wood.

“We slept together.”

“Yeah?” Michael asked with a smile. “That’s good, right?”

Calum nodded. “Yeah,” he said, though the word wasn’t exactly convincing. “After guys night last weekend.”

“Was it no good?”

“No,” Calum said quickly. “It’s never not good. I guess it’s just different, and I knew it would be. He’s still so sad and it feels like we’re still not _there_ yet, you know?”

Michael smiled sympathetically, and felt monumentally guilty that he was unable to give his friend some form of comfort. This was probably the most adult – and _terrifying_ – thing anyone could go through, and Michael wanted to give Calum advice that would help, but he was so ridiculously underqualified.

“How’s things with Ash?”

Michael felt his cheeks heat up, and he shrugged his should nonchalantly. “You know, casual.”

Calum rolled his eyes. “You’re about as believable as your hair colour.”

Michael frowned and reached up to drag his fingers through his dark hair. “Hey,” he pouted. “You don’t have to be so nasty.”

Calum smiled. “I mean it, Mikey. You like him.”

Michael scoffed, shifting in his seat. “He’s one of my best friends, of course I _like_ him.”

Calum shoved him gently. “Are you seriously pulling this shit with me?” he asked. “Or are you that far into denial you can’t see it?”

Michael started to feel uncomfortable, swallowing thickly against the tightness of his throat. He didn’t need Calum to tell him what was obvious, because it would be harder to deny that he saw it himself.

And he _needed_ to live in denial, otherwise things would be too real and he’d have to face the fact that he was – quite possibly – developing _something_ for Ashton Irwin.

“Life is short,” Calum said simply, picking up his cigarette packet. “If I can teach you anything, Mikey, it’s that life is _short_ and one day, things are fine and uncomplicated, and then all of a sudden they’re horrible and difficult. Don’t spend your time when it’s good, thinking it’s bad.”

“I know,” Michael said quietly, and he felt guilty for even wasting Calum’s time with his issues. It was selfish and presumptuous and he shouldn’t even _think_ about his own problems when Calum was burdened enough by his own.

“You could do a whole lot worse, you know.”

Michael knew that. He also knew he _had_ done worse, that out of all the men he’d dated and slept with, Ashton was, without a doubt, the sweetest, kindest and most genuine. He put all the other men to shame, and the idea that he’d been _there_ the whole time, made Michael’s stomach clench in the way it always seemed to do whenever he was around Ashton, or thinking about him.

“How do you _feel_?”

Michael sighed. “I feel confused and messed up inside.”

“Why?” Calum prodded softly. “Isn’t he a good guy?”

“He is,” Michael admitted softly. “Like, I can’t believe he’s real sometimes, you know? But he’s _Ashton_ , and I’ve never actually _dated_ someone like him before. I haven’t even really _dated_ before.”

“He’d be the perfect first guy, you know,” Calum pointed out softly. “I mean, he knows you inside and out, and he’s great.”

Michael felt sick, felt like the invisible walls were closing in around him and he didn’t _want_ to feel this way. He never felt like this with Harry, he never felt pressured into something he wasn’t ready for.

“You’re shutting down on me,” Calum sighed, extracting a cigarette from his packet, to slide the filter between his lips. “Change the subject, Mikey.”

Michael let out a relieved breath, thanking the stars that Calum knew him well enough to know when he needed an out. He knew he couldn’t run from his feelings forever, but he could put it off.

For now.

**

“Where are we going?”

Ashton laughed. “Don’t you get the significance of a _blindfold_?”

Michael huffed, crossing his arms over his chest where he sat in the passenger seat of Ashton’s car, a black bandana tied around his head, covering his eyes.

“It’s not too far away now.”

“This is kidnapping,” Michael said flatly. “You’ve physically removed me from my house and detained me in your car, and for all I know we could be heading up the coast to the lookout so you can toss me off the cliff.”

“If I wanted to get rid of you, I’d be much smarter about it.”

Michael rolled his eyes beneath the blindfold, and was irritated that it didn’t even _matter_ because he’d been sitting there for almost ten minutes – roughly – and he was no closer to an answer of where the hell they were going.

“Can I take it off?” he whined. “I’m getting motion sickness.”

Ashton snorted. “No you’re not,” he demanded flatly. “You don’t _get_ motion sickness, you idiot.”

“I might get motion sickness!” Michael insisted indignantly.

“You don’t,” Ashton insisted. “Just sit still!”

Michael wriggled, fingertips itching to peel the fabric away from his eyes. He’d been monumentally confused when Ashton had shown up on his doorstep with a devilish smile on his face, and brandished the blindfold.

While Michael wasn’t really into something quite so kinky, he’d agreed, and had tried to tug Ashton inside and to his room, when the older man had burst out laughing and had to explain that the bandana wasn’t for _that_ , but something different.

A _surprise_.

“Where are we going?” Michael whined again, making sure his voice was as annoying as possible. “I’m hungry!”

Ashton laughed. “Well, it’s a good thing then that I’m taking you to one of the best places in Sydney.”

Michael felt a little wary.

They’d never really been out to dinner together before. It was too date-like for Michael, and he was glad that Ashton never offered to take him out. He liked take out containers in bed, or sharing a pizza while watching TV at Ashton’s place.

“It’s really not necessary,” Michael insisted. “I’m happy with take out or leftovers. Mum made an incredible roast chicken last night, and I’ll admit that I had dreams about a leftover sandwich last night.”

“I know it’s not necessary,” the older man said as he drove. “But it’d be nice to sit at a table, you know? Use cutlery?”

Michael scoffed. “You make me sound like some sort of caveman! We use cutlery at my place!”

“Not all the time,” Ashton pointed out. “Plus, this isn’t five-star dining. Just simple, good food, and polite conversation on a Thursday night. Do you think you can handle that?”

Michael was tempted to pout a little more, but he knew it wouldn’t get him anywhere. He decided to stick with silence, and he could almost _hear_ the smug grin that was no doubt gracing Ashton’s lips.

They drove for a few more minutes before the car was easing to a stop, and Michael’s stomach was bottoming out.

“Can I take it off now?”

“Not yet.”

Michael sighed, listening as Ashton got out of the car, and waited for the door to close before he was reaching up to tug the blindfold down for a split second to try and discern where they were. The sun was barely hanging in the sky, and everything was cast in shadows as his eyes frantically tried to focus, and as he finally noticed where they were, Ashton was opening his door.

Michael quickly slid the blindfold into place, feeling sick to his stomach.

“You ready?” Ashton asked cheerfully, reaching for his hands.

Michael nodded though he really _wasn’t_ , and got out of the car carefully. “Ash, where are we?” he asked.

Ashton closed the door and locked the car. “Where do you _think_ we are?”

Michael sighed and bit down on his bottom lip momentarily. “We’re at your mum’s place. I peeked.”

“Michael,” Ashton sighed, and all of a sudden, the blindfold was falling away. “You ruined it.”

Michael looked up at the simple two-storey house and was unable to shake the uneasiness he felt. This was dinner with the parents, and he felt tricked into it, because he wouldn’t have agreed to it otherwise. Now he was stuck, leaning up against Ashton’s car and trying to avoid the hopeful expression on the other man’s face, because Michael knew that this was it.

“It’s nothing fancy,” Ashton insisted softly, reaching for his hand. “Just dinner with mum, Harry and Lauren. I don’t make it home often enough because I’ve been with you, and she said we should come over, so…”

Michael watched as the front light came on, and the door was eased open. He could see Ann-Marie, and the pressure he felt on his shoulders only got heavier.

“C’mon,” Ashton smiled, squeezing his hand.

Michael pulled his away. “I don’t want to,” he blurted out.

Ashton frowned. “Why not? Are you okay?”

Michael looked at him, at the hazel eyes he knew so well, and hated that he was the reason they were clouded with confusion.

“It’s just dinner, Mikey.”

“It’s not just dinner,” he said quickly. “Not to you. To you, it’s me having dinner with your mum and siblings, and it’s _official_.”

“It’s dinner,” Ashton said quietly, averting his eyes.

“You had to blindfold me to get me here,” Michael pointed out. “You knew I’d say no if you asked.”

Ashton rolled his eyes. “Maybe I wanted to be romantic? Maybe I thought it’d be a laugh? Maybe I just wanted to share a meal with my family and my friend.”

“Friend?” Michael parroted. “You think we’re just _friends_?”

“I think you think we’re just friends.”

“We _are_!” Michael insisted. “That’s all I ever wanted to be.”

Ashton looked wounded. “Will you please just come inside? Mum went to a lot of effort to cook.”

“Okay, that’s nice, and I’m _sorry_ that she did, alright? But I’m not doing this, Ash.”

“It’s lasagne!” Ashton demanded. “It’s just dinner!”

“It’s not just dinner!” Michael shouted. “It’s you wanting me to be something I’m not, and maybe that’s my fault, okay? For doing this with you and making you think that it’s more than it is.”

Ashton scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest. “Are you fucking serious?” he demanded. “You’re seriously going to stand there and make this _my_ issue?”

“It is your issue!” Michael insisted. “I was always upfront about what I wanted, and what this was.”

“Oh, except when you want to hold my hand and kiss me in public and _use_ me when you needed comfort,” Ashton responded viciously. “Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I haven’t noticed all the times you drag me back in and confuse fucking _everything_ and I’m supposed to go along with it?”

“Fuck you,” Michael spat. “I never said I wanted a boyfriend.”

“Well you fucking got one, except you only want it when it’s convenient.”

“I’m not doing this,” Michael insisted, moving away from the car, digging into his pocket for his phone.

“Of course not,” Ashton said sarcastically. “God forbid Michael Clifford ever has to answer for the shitty way he treats people.”

Michael almost lost hold of his phone, Ashton’s words cutting him much deeper than he wanted to let on.

“What do you want from me?” he demanded. “You want me to fit into this mould you have in your head, and I just _don’t_. I’m not going to be the perfect fucking boyfriend!”

“You’re right about that!” Ashton insisted. “You’re not boyfriend material, because you don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself.”

Michael flinched and looked away from Ashton, feeling the words hit home. He wanted to recover and say something back, to spit an insult to make Ashton feel as poorly as he did, but he had nothing.

An awkward silence descended over them, and Ashton sighed.

“Look, I’m sor-“

“Don’t apologize,” Michael said quickly, squeezing his phone in his hand. “You’re right. I’d be a shitty boyfriend, and I’m a shitty friend, obviously. Go enjoy your lasagne, I’m going home.”

Ashton sighed. “Okay.”

Michael gave a quick nod and walked away, his fingers trembling as he punched in his mother’s number, and hoped she’d pick up quickly.

**

He’d been silent in the car, not offering any explanation of why he’d needed to be picked up from Ashton’s mum’s house when Ashton himself was inside. He couldn’t tell her that he was a shitty person, that he hurt one of his best friends, and had been hurt just as bad in return.

Michael wanted to crawl into bed and sleep off the guilt and internalized agony he felt, and then maybe he’d be able to throw together a quick apology, not wanting to lose Ashton.

It was exactly what he did after muttering a quick thanks to his mother for picking him up, crawling under the messy sheets on his bed as he thought about each word Ashton said to him.

The worst part was that he was _right_ , and Michael wasn’t sure how to reconcile that. He was upset about it, then a little indifferent, and then he was _angry_.

Who was Ashton to go around telling him he was a shitty person? That he had _used_ the older man without considering his feelings?

Michael had been _honest_ , and he may have made a few mistakes and stepped over the line a few times, but he’d never tried to be someone he wasn’t. He never _tried_ to be a boyfriend.

He didn’t _want_ to be a boyfriend.

He was stewing in his thoughts, making lists in his head of just how shitty _Ashton_ was, when his phone rang.

He scoffed before grabbing it off his bedside table, not bothering to check the caller ID, knowing that Ashton had probably cooled down enough by now to apologize, and Michael didn’t _want_ it, he wanted to _fight_ and scream and _yell_ and then he wanted rough make up sex.

“You’re an asshole,” Michael answered flatly.

The person on the other end of the phone laughed. “I knew that, love.”

Michael felt his breath catch in his throat at the sound of the soft, slow drawl of the British accent on the other end of the phone.

“Did you miss me?” Harry asked slowly, his voice warm and smooth.

“I, uh, what?” Michael mumbled softly.

“It’s been a few months, and I sort of got the point after you didn’t answer some texts.”

Michael felt his cheeks heat up, and he tried to ignore the spark of want inside of him. He _hated_ that about himself when it came to Harry.

“But I did miss you,” Harry said softly. “A lot.”

Michael felt sick, biting down on his bottom lip. “I saw the pictures of you with that other guy.”

“I figured,” Harry answered. “I’m just not very good at commitment.”

Michael sighed. “It was a dick move, you know?”

“I know,” Harry agreed. “But if it makes you feel any better, he was nothing like you. I’ve _missed_ you.”

“Why are you calling me?” Michael asked softly.

“I’m in town,” Harry answered. “Flew in late last night. I’d love to see you.”

Michael was going to say no. He’d made up his mind as soon as he’d heard Harry on the other end of the line. He was going to deny him, and put his own self-worth before whatever hold the Brit had over him. Then he’d call Ashton, apologize to him and hopefully invite him over to make up.

But Michael was quickly asking Harry over, feeling his stomach clench in anticipation, and it wasn’t until he’d hung up the phone that he realized he was making a massive fucking mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm a little under the weather, but I wanted to update, although this chapter is the beginning of the bad stuff! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless, and leave me your thoughts!
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading/subscribing and leaving kudos, and special thanks to Coco_Decon, Skagger, KellyWoods, annaisastupididiot, asickburn0ut, thominhoplease, chunkysalsa & shutupluke for their comments! It much appreciated!
> 
> xoxo


	15. Chapter 15

Michael moaned softly, his hands clutched around the edge of his desk. His hips were knocking up against the hard surface with every snap of Harry’s hips, and it was bordering on painfully distracting. He tried to arch his back, to push back against the man behind him, the man who had him bent over his desk with one hand on his back, the other pulling at his hair.

Ashton never pulled his hair.

He never turned Michael away from him, either. He always kept him close, their mouths seeking each other’s when they were together, the intimacy increasing tenfold when they were having sex.

But Harry wasn’t like that. He’d barely kissed Michael before he was pushing him down against the wooden surface, preparing him quickly and sharply before putting on a condom and pressing inside.

It was _good_ , in a way, but it was different to what he’d been having with Ashton, and being with Harry didn’t feel like it used to. Before Ashton, Michael had been happy with quick, needy sex like this. He didn’t mind being manhandled and pawed at, because it had been _hot_ , but now, he felt empty.

Harry was pulling at his hair and thrusting quickly inside of him, fingernails dragging over his back as he grunted and chased his orgasm. Michael pushed back – wanting it _over_ already – and he had to sneak his hand down to jerk himself off, just to get him there.

His orgasm just made him feel guilty, and the moment Harry pulled out of him Michael was reaching to pull his boxer shorts back up, feeling sick to his stomach as he crawled into bed.

“You okay?”

Michael nodded, tugging the covers up over him.

Harry smirked. “Been a while for you, huh?”

Michael felt the guilt strike through him again, and he nodded.

Harry pulled off the condom and threw it in the bin before tugging his underwear back on before approaching the bed, crawling on beside Michael. “You did so well,” he praised, kissing over his jaw.

“Are you staying?” Michael asked softly.

“If you’ll let me,” Harry smiled. “Just the night, I need to be back in the city by nine tomorrow morning.”

Michael nodded. As much as he wanted Harry to _go_ , he couldn’t very well kick him out.

He feigned tiredness and let Harry pull him into his arms, and Michael lay there as the Brit’s breathing evened out, until he knew he was asleep before silently berating himself for the whole situation.

Ashton had been _right_.

He _was_ a shitty person, and he couldn’t believe he’d slept with Harry. Not when things with Ashton were so screwed up, and not when he felt so much _guilt_ about it. Like he was _cheating_ , or something ludicrous like that.

He stayed awake for hours, trying to wriggle out of Harry’s grip because it was _wrong._ His hands weren’t soft like Ashton’s, he didn’t hold him close enough to press kisses to the back of his neck. He didn’t _smell_ like Ashton, a mix of expensive cologne and Dove soap.

It was the exhaustion that dragged him under in the end, and Michael fell asleep with a frown on his face.

**

When Michael woke up the next day, his eyes were bleary and he felt sick to his stomach. He wasn’t sure if it was Harry’s arm around him, or his phone’s stoic home screen showing him Ashton hadn’t called.

Either way, he slid out of bed as quietly as he could, lifting Harry’s arm so he could slip out from under it, and padded over the carpet to his dresser. His hips were aching and his ass was sore, and it was like karmic retribution for making the stupidest mistake of his _life_.

He grabbed a clean pair of boxer briefs from his drawer, and a t-shirt from the pile of semi-clean ones on the floor and tiptoed out of his bedroom, shutting the door tightly.

He let out a sigh of relief and his shoulders hunched, and he listened for any signs of life in his house. He was unaware of the time, but when he was met with an eerie silence, he knew that his parents had both left for work, so he could avoid having to explain his erratic behaviour over the last twelve hours.

He wanted a hot shower, a huge cup of coffee and time alone to figure out what he was going to say to Ashton.

He shuffled down the hall to the bathroom, shutting the door after him and set his clean clothes down on the basin before turning on the water. His reflection did him no favours, dark bags under his eyes and regret written in his green depths.

_Why? Why am I so fucking incapable of doing the right thing?_

Michael sighed deeply and peeled off his clothes, dropping them into the hamper before stepping in under the hot water.

It worked its magic on his shoulders, his head lolling forward because it was just so _impossible_ to hold his head up, with the weight of his thoughts running rampant in his mind. He clenched his fists and pressed them to the tiled wall, watching the water drip off the ends of his dark hair.

He thought about Ashton; the wounded look on his face the night before when Michael had shit all over his perfectly acceptable offer of dinner at his mum’s place. Michael had lost count of how many times he’d sat in the Irwin’s dining room growing up, shovelling Ann-Marie’s crazy good chicken enchiladas into his mouth and teasing Lauren over made up nonsense.

He felt as comfortable at that table as he did at his own, but everything had _changed_.

And Michael had been so scared, stupid and _immature_ to realize it, and address it.

He let out a pained groan and dropped his fists to his sides before tipping his head back, letting the water run over his face for a moment, before he grabbed for his shampoo. He lathered it up slowly, working the product into his scalp, trying to erase his thoughts, if it was possible.

He wasn’t used to emotions, and he’d spent all of his adult life _running_ from situations like this, so the idea of having to tap into something he didn’t actually understand scared the _shit_ out of him. He had hoped the hot water would help, could somehow unjumble his jumbled thoughts, so he could see clearly what he had to do to _fix_ everything.

He was just rinsing the last of the soap from his body when the door to the bathroom burst open, and a very sleepy, mostly naked Harry Styles stood there, rubbing at his eyes.

“Coulda woken me,” he mumbled sleepily.

Michael’s stomach rolled. “What time is it?”

“Almost eight,” Harry said around a yawn. “Wanna share?”

Michael looked at the small shower stall, and could remember all the time he’d spent in there with Harry, and he knew that if he had _any_ chance for redemption, he needed to keep the Brit _out_.

“I’m done,” Michael said quickly, shutting off the water despite the soap that momentarily burnt his eye. “It’s all yours.”

“No fair,” Harry pouted, grabbing at the fluffy blue towel Michael wrapped around his waist.

“Sorry,” Michael said apologetically, flashing a tight, uncomfortable smile. “Don’t you need to be back in the city by nine?”

“Mhm,” Harry mumbled. “I could push it back, though? Get you back in the shower?” he grinned.

Michael wasn’t sure how to get himself out of the situation, and he felt like he might actually throw up. But that in itself seemed like a good way to turn Harry off, so he entertained the idea for a quick second before he heard it.

His saviour.

“Someone’s at the door,” Michael said quickly, drying off as fast as he could. “Do you think you could answer it for me?” he asked sweetly.

Harry frowned. “What? Why? It’s probably a door-to-door salesman,” he pouted.

“It’s probably a delivery,” Michael said, tugging his clean briefs on. “My mum is eBay crazy, and she’d _kill_ me if I let something sit out there all day.”

Harry’s frown didn’t waver. “After that, you and me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Michael lied, nodding his head. “Just help me out.”

Harry smiled, leaning towards him. “Kiss first.”

Michael could _taste_ the bile in the back of his throat, but pressed a barely-there kiss to Harry’s lips before giving him a gentle push towards the door.

He let out a relieved sigh as the Brit stumbled back into the hall and towards the front door, and he was doubly relieved that he’d managed to avoid falling back into Harry’s arms. There had to be retribution for him, he had to believe that.

But it was all shattered when he heard the one voice he didn’t want to hear.

Ashton’s.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pain and death and desperate sadness! That is vibe I get when I read this chapter, and it's horrible, and I applaud everyone who got through it! Even though I knew it was coming, it's still awful, but Michael is never going to have his moment of realization without a little pain, right?
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading/subscribing and leaving kudos and super huge thanks to irwah, rocketmail, shutupluke, LeAnne, milecgv, Skagger, chunkysalsa, Migs, asickburn0ut, pizzatrash, annaisastupididiot, thominhoplease, CupidGenie & tigerlily_sunshine for their wonderful comments!
> 
> xoxo


	16. Chapter 16

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?”

Michael had stood staring at his reflection in the mirror for a solid five seconds when he’d first identified Ashton’s voice at his front door, his blood rushing in his ears and his fingers losing grip of his toothbrush as the absolute _devastation_ blasted through him.

He could hear Ashton’s angry voice, and Harry’s smug placating tone, and Michael lurched out of the bathroom, knowing that leaving the two men alone, would mean bodily harm.

Ashton’s eyes were wild when Michael first saw him, his fists clenched by his sides, and he wanted to _cry_.

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” Ashton demanded as soon as he saw him, pushing past Harry – who hadn’t even bothered to put on pants – and stepped inside.

 “It’s not what you think,” Michael said quickly, though they both knew it was a lie.

“Did you fuck him?”

Michael felt like he really _would_ throw up, now. His stomach was churning and he felt such a wide range of emotions he’d never felt before, and he wanted to latch onto Ashton and pull him in, but he knew the other man wouldn’t let him.

He noticed he was wearing the same outfit as the night before, and Michael could imagine him crashing on his mother’s couch after everyone went to bed, thinking of all the things he wanted to say to Michael, while Michael was _letting Harry **fuck** him_.

Michael really was scum, he was certain of it now.

“Technically, _I_ fucked _him_ ,” Harry offered, his voice smothered in the condescending tone he was known for.

Ashton scoffed, throwing a look over his shoulder at the other man before looking back at Michael. “Message received, Clifford.”

“Wait,” Michael said quickly, grabbing onto the sleeve of Ashton’s jacket. “Let me expla-“

Ashton reefed his sleeve out of Michael’s grasp angrily. “No way.”

“Ohhh,” Harry said softly, crossing his arms over his tattooed chest. “Are you two…oh, are you a thing?”

Michael looked over at him, his face twisted into a frown. “Just _shut up_ ,” he snapped.

“Hey, love,” Harry cautioned, a pout on his face. “Don’t be so mean.”

Michael let out a cry of frustration. “Just…go away,” he demanded. “I want to talk to Ashton. _Alone_.”

“Can you two be trusted alone?” Harry smirked, flicking his hand through the air as he slowly strutted back down the hall away from them.

“There’s nothing I want to say to you,” Ashton demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Then please just let me explain,” Michael begged.

“Did you sleep with him last night?”

Michael wanted to lie, wanted to _believe_ the lie. Because surely, he hadn’t, right? He hadn’t left Ashton on the street outside his mother’s house to come home and sleep with Harry.

But he could feel the ache in his ass, could feel the tender bruises against his hips, and there was no point in denying it.

“I-yeah,” he mumbled softly.

“That’s just great,” Ashton spat bitterly. “Great, Michael.”

“I’m sorry!”

“God, why am I still here?” Ashton muttered under his breath. “I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to talk to you.”

Michael opened his mouth to beg him to reconsider, but he knew it was futile. Ashton was angry, but more than that, he was _upset_ , and Michael still wouldn’t let himself understand _why_.

 “You should get back to your _boyfriend_ ,” Ashton said flatly.

Michael winced and watched as Ashton left, slamming the front door as hard as he could, and all Michael could hear was the deafening echo the wood made against the frame. He could feel his eyes burning, his stomach churning, and he lurched down the hallway to the bathroom, dry reaching over the toilet.

He pressed his eyes shut, his shoulders heaving as he gagged, his knees pressed harshly into the tiled floor.

“Oh, love,” Harry said softly, crouching down beside him in the small room, his hand on Michael’s back. “You okay?”

Michael shook his head, spitting the vile taste out of his mouth and into the bowl.

“I pushed my meeting,” Harry said softly, pulling a few squares of toilet paper off the roll and handed them to Michael. “Let me take care of you.”

Michael was _not_ going to cry in front of Harry. He made that decision the moment he felt the man behind him, and he knew that he had to hold onto the only shred of dignity he had left, although he was certain it had forsaken him by now.

He felt the last pieces of it crumble away as Harry guided him into his arms, and Michael went, pressing his face into the man’s clothed chest.

**

When Michael woke up again, he was glad that he was alone. It was late; almost four o’clock, and he’d spent most of his day in and out of consciousness, and trying to avoid throwing up in his bed. The nausea wouldn’t let up, and he could remember Harry spooning around him until lunch time, rubbing his stomach and pressing kisses to his shoulder, and it only made Michael feel worse because it was _nice_.

The comfort was nice, and he enjoyed it, and he _hated_ himself for it.

He was relieved when Harry had to go, calling a cab to take him into the city, and Michael was alone and could punish him relentlessly for his mistakes.

He had two texts from Luke, and a missed call from Calum, and he didn’t have the energy to answer any of them.

But Luke wanted to know if he was going to Calum’s game that night, and despite how much he didn’t want to, Michael texted back a simple _yes_ , and shut his phone off.

He lay on his back in bed, staring up at the ceiling and pushed all the emotions deep down inside of himself, and closed his eyes again.

**

He was late.

Or at least, he _thought_ he was late, because Michael didn’t leave until his mum was home from work, and the drive into the city to the stadium through peak hour meant he was bumper to bumper on the highway for twenty minutes and had to pay for parking just so he’d get there before the teams ran onto the field.

He didn’t feel quite so nauseous anymore, though his fingers were still shaky and he wasn’t sure if he had a headache or a brain tumour, but at least he’d made it to the stadium, and had followed the simple directions to find Luke, juggling the baby and a takeaway coffee.

“Luke!”

Michael inched through the crowd, avoiding children and people who were a lot happier than he was. He envied them, but the entire situation was his fault, so he had no one to blame but himself.

“What’s wrong?”

Michael looked over Luke’s shoulder, afraid to see that maybe Ashton had changed his mind, and he wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to handle that.

“What?” he asked distractedly. “Nothing. Have you seen Ashton? Is he still coming?”

Luke shrugged and they stepped out of the way of people at the concession stand. “He said he was yesterday. You haven’t seen him?”

“No,” Michael said sharply, taking a sip from Luke’s coffee.

Luke’s brow creased, and opened his mouth to respond, but he fell silent momentarily.

Michael fidgeted, taking another sip of coffee, though the last thing he needed was caffeine jitters.

“What happened?

Michael frowned, lifting his head and following Luke’s gaze to see Ashton stalking towards them. “Nothing,” he answered quickly, looking away from Ashton as he took another sip of coffee.

“Mikey,” Luke sighed.

Michael sighed. “He’s upset because Harry is back in town, and we hooked up.”

“ _What_?” Luke hissed, his eyes widening. “You _cheated_ on Ashton?”

Michael’s stomach clenched and his frown deepened. “I didn’t _cheat_ on anyone,” he said pointedly, though the words felt like a lie. “Ashton and I were never exclusive, he knew that. But he showed up at my place this morning and Harry was there and he got all upset and weird.”

Before Luke could respond, the man himself appeared, his face still creased into a frown. “I didn’t think you’d come,” he said by way of greeting, his attention focused on Michael.

“Yeah,” Michael mumbled, feeling sick all over again. “But Luke asked, so…”

“Where’s Harry?” Ashton demanded angrily. “He’s back, so I figured his dick would be permanently in your ass.”

Luke choked and bit down on his lip ring. “Guys, can we please not do this here?” he mumbled.

“Why not here?” Ashton demanded angrily. “Apparently Michael has no problem fucking me over, so why not talk about it?”

“I didn’t fuck you over,” Michael insisted. “I don’t get why you’re all pissy about this. What we had was casual, what I have with Harry is casual.”

It was a lie, and Michael was terrified Ashton would pick up on it, and call him out on his bullshit. He could handle the anger, despite how much it hurt, but he couldn’t take Ashton splitting him open and forcing him to deal with his feelings.

“So, you want to keep on fucking around with me?” Ashton demanded. “Are you that desperate that you need more than one man?”

Michael could feel his eyes burn, and he tried to channel his devastation into anger. “Oh screw you,” he scoffed. “I’m not going to stand here and let you call me a whore.”

“Well, by definition, you are one,” Ashton said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Ash,” Luke sighed, grabbing at the older man’s sleeve.

“What?” Ashton demanded, looking at him. “Apparently I don’t mean enough to even get a _text_ before he slept with someone else.”

“I don’t owe you shit,” Michael hissed angrily. “I’ve always been upfront about what this was, and you don’t get to drag me through the mud because your feelings are hurt.”

“You don’t know shit about my feelings,” Ashton spat angrily. “You don’t give a shit about how I feel, as long as you’re getting laid, right?”

Luke grabbed Ashton’s jacket and tugged him sharply, pulling him away from Michael, and Michael was _relieved_. Ashton’s anger had only increased since the last time they’d seen each other, and the younger man was momentarily alarmed that he could end up with a black eye.

His shoulders slumped and he turned to head down the concrete stairs to the private box, filing in and finding a seat. He stared at the scuffed toes of his Converse shoes, trying to calm his shaky breathing.

He had to face it, and he didn’t want to, and _fuck_ Ashton for doing this to him.

Michael had been _happy_ before all of this, he’d been content with seeing Harry and having a casual arrangement with him, and avoiding things like _feelings_ and disappointment.

He wasn’t cut out for it.

He sucked in a breath as Luke and Ashton filed into his row, and Luke took a seat between the two of them. Michael cleared his throat, keeping his eyes away from Ashton.

“Okay, we’re here for Calum,” Luke said. “Can you two keep it civil?”

“Yes,” Michael mumbled softly, and sunk deeper inside himself.

**

When the game was over and the baby was asleep, Michael wanted to escape. He’d sat there beside Luke and Ashton for the entire thing, and he just felt sick. Maybe this was what happened to people who had feelings. Maybe they were always destroyed by them, sending them into a downward spiral of illness.

If that was the case, Michael wasn’t ready.

He was even less prepared when Luke stood up and announced he was going to meet Calum, that he and Ashton should _behave_ and maybe even _talk_ , but from the dejected snort Ashton made, Michael knew that the time for talking was over.

The rows around them started to empty out, and Michael held his phone between his palms and wedged them between his knees. He could see Ashton’s foot out of the corner of his right of his eye, the scuffed boots that had ended up discarded on Michael’s floor more than a few times.

He turned his head further towards the right, looking up Ashton’s calves to his thighs and then his torso, Ruby resting peacefully against his strong chest. Michael sighed, wanting to reach out and touch him and attempt to say _something_ that could fix this.

Ashton’s eyes were on the baby, but the anger was rolling off of him in waves. Michael wanted to kiss him, to slide his mouth over the stubble on his jaw and slide his hands underneath his jacket to feel his warmth, but he _couldn’t_ now, and it was his _fault._

“Hey, great game!”

Michael was torn from his thoughts as Ashton stood, and he saw their friends making their way up the narrow aisle towards them.

“Thanks, man,” Calum smiled warmly, his eyes on Michael as he led Luke through the gate.

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, trying to hide his discomfort. “Good stuff.” They fell into awkward silence, and Michael could see the pity in Luke’s eyes and it was just _too much_. “I’ve gotta get going,” he said, standing quickly to zip up his hoodie. “But really, dude. Great game.”

 “Where are you running off to?” Luke questioned.

“You have to ask?” Ashton grumbled.

Michael felt nauseous again. “Jesus Christ,” he said, trying to mask his hurt with the roll of his eyes. “Would you get off my fucking back? Yeah, I probably should’ve been upfront with you about Harry, but he called yesterday and asked me to pick him up, and I did, and it just _happened_. I didn’t know I had to stop and text you before fucking someone else.”

“Screw you, Michael,” Ashton demanded angrily. “It’d be alright if I was some random dude you were screwing, but I’m not. The fact that our friendship means fucking nothing to you, is a good indication of how little you think of me.”

“Why are you taking this so personal?” Michael demanded, throwing his hands up. “He’s my boyfriend!”

The words were a lie, and tasted even worse than the bile in his throat.

“Oh, some boyfriend,” Ashton scoffed. “Did you stop to think about when he leaves before you spread your legs? How he’s just going to disappear and fuck other guys?”

“So what?” Michael spat. “I fucked you when he left!”

“Guys!” Luke sighed, prying the baby out of Ashton’s arms. “Could you please stop yelling at each other?”

“Tell him,” Michael demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s no problem here, but he’s _making_ one.”

“Fuck you,” Ashton spat angrily.

Michael turned to look at him, his eyes wide. “What is it?” he demanded. “What the hell did I do to you?”

“You’ve got no idea,” Ashton said, shaking his head. “The last few months have been different, Michael. You and me, we started this thing and at first I just took it as it come, but then it started to change.”

“That’s just it, it never did,” Michael insisted stubbornly. “We were casual sex and that was it.”

Lie after lie, after lie. Michael opened his mouth and untruths came out, and he was _awful_.

“Yeah, well. I guess I fucked it all up because I fell for you.”

Michael felt the colour drain from his face at the words Ashton spoke. “W-what?”

Ashton dug his hand into his pocket for his keys, and jingled them in his hand. “Give me my key back. The one I gave you? A few weeks ago? I want it back.”

Michael frowned, thinking of the key in his underwear drawer he’d been too afraid to use, too afraid to put on his keyring, because that _meant_ something. “No, what? Shut up about keys,” he choked out. “What are you _talking_ about, Ash?”

“Fucking nothing,” Ashton demanded. “I made such a massive fucking mistake sleeping with you, and I regret it completely.”

Michael reached out to grab at his sleeve, and gave it a tug. “Tell me what you mean.”

Ashton reefed his arm away from Michael. “I fell in love with you,” he said angrily. “And it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

Michael’s feet worked faster than his brain, and he wasn’t even aware he was inching out of the row of seats and hurrying away from Ashton until he almost tripped up the concrete steps, the words slamming into him over and over again.

He could hear Calum’s voice but he ignored it, following the exit signs to the carpark, trying to keep from throwing up on his shoes. His fingers trembled as they dug into his pocket for his keys, breaking out into a jog as he pushed through the crowd of people still lingering in the halls. He knew he was being rude, could feel his shoulder banging into other people, but he didn’t _care_ , he needed to get as far away from Ashton as he could.

**

_“I fell in love with you and it was the biggest mistake of my life.”_

Michael had thrown up when he reached the car, the bile hitting the wheel of his mother’s car, and he choked out a sob. He knew how he must look; a soccer fan that celebrated a little _too_ much, and he preferred that, than the truth.

And the truth was, he had made a _massive_ mistake.

Sleeping with Harry had set off a chain of events that Michael couldn’t fix, and if that wasn’t bad enough, the words Ashton spoke echoed in his head like a memory he couldn’t forget.

Ashton was _in love with him._

Or, _was_ , if the older man’s words rang true.

And maybe Michael had known that in some twisted way, but thinking it and hearing it and _knowing_ it was true was something completely different. It was large scale damage, because now the pieces of Ashton’s broken heart were falling on his shoulders, and he wasn’t strong enough to carry them.

He was crying as he navigated his way out of the stadium carpark, trying to stop the tears that rushed down his cheeks, coughing against the need to throw up again, and hoping he’d make it home in one piece.

His phone was ringing, and he knew it was Calum but there was no way Michael could have a conversation in his current state, but he knew he’d have to answer eventually. He owed his best friend that much.

He slammed on the brakes as he almost ran up the back of a jeep, and he swore under his breath. He was in no condition to drive, but he sure as hell couldn’t go _back_ , so he eased his foot off the brake and merged out onto the street, having to concentrate on the street signs to find his way home.

His phone rang again, and he reached for it, seeing Calum’s face staring back at him. He threw the device down on the passenger seat and groaned.

He needed to forget.

He knew exactly where to go to do that.

**

“Love! I was surprised to hear from you!”

Michael shoved Harry into his hotel room, slamming the door behind him. He felt feral, his heart pounding and tears threatening to spill down his cheeks, but he just wanted to _forget_.

“Woah,” Harry laughed softly, his hands cupping Michael’s shoulders, pressing him against the closed door.

“Kiss me,” Michael panted softly, begged him in a way he never would usually, but he couldn’t _feel_ this way anymore.

Harry did as he was told, pressing their mouths together in a slow, burning kiss.

Michael whimpered, his hands tugging at Harry’s clothes, pushing up his flimsy shirt to get to his belt, unbuckling it quickly.

Harry grunted, his own hands finding the urgency, unzipping Michael’s hoodie and pushing it off his shoulders quickly.

Michael was forgetting, sliding into early arousal the longer he kept kissing the Brit, their teeth clashing and fingers getting caught on fabric, but Michael worked quickly, roughly tugging open Harry’s skinny jeans, pushing his hand inside to palm him.

Harry groaned, pulling out of the kiss to bite down on Michael’s shoulder. “What’s the rush, love?” he panted.

Michael whimpered. “Just fuck me,” he begged softly.

Harry let out a slow laugh. “I love you needy like this,” he breathed, pulling Michael’s shirt up and off.

Michael ignored him, shoving Harry’s pants and briefs down over his ass, his hand curling around his half-hard erection, jerking him off quickly.

Harry groaned, his hands reaching to undo Michael’s jeans, bucking his hips up into his fist. “C’mon,” he rasped out, pulling Michael away from the door. “Bed, yeah? Wanna get you on the bed.”

Michael didn’t care, as long as it meant that Harry would fuck him. He needed to forget, and it was the only way he knew how to. He kept his hand around Harry’s rigid flesh as they stumbled their way across the lavish room to the massive bed, Michael ending up underneath the Brit who kissed his way down his chest.

“Harry,” Michael groaned softly. “Just hurry up, okay?”

Harry chuckled, tugging Michael’s pants down and off quickly, his hand curling around his erection. “I’ll give you what you want, love,” he promised softly.

Michael grabbed handfuls of the bedding, arching his back off the bed as he felt things slip away. He concentrated on the other man’s touch, the lips against his chest, and was able to put all the misery out of his mind.

Harry grinded against his hip, fingers tugging Michael sharply until he was keening. “That’s it,” Harry purred. “Just like that, love.”

Michael groaned, one hand letting go of the quilt to grab a handful of the other man’s hair.

“Want you to ride me, hmm?” Harry mumbled. “Get you bouncing on my cock?”

Michael bit down on his bottom lip and refrained from telling the other man to _shut up_. He knew it wasn’t fair and he knew there was potential to hate himself even more after sleeping with Harry again, but he didn’t have any other options. He needed to forget, and this was how he could do it.

“Jesus,” Harry groaned softly, sucking a mark at the base of Michael’s throat. “Wanna bareback, love? Wanna feel me?”

Michael choked out a moan as Harry’s grip on him tightened. “W-what?” he gasped out. “ _No_.”

“Why not?”

Michael lifted his head up off the bed to look at him. “You’re not exactly faithful.”

Harry smirked. “Neither are you.”

Michael felt the crushing weight land on his chest, the guilt and despair and confusion and he wanted _Ashton_. Who never treated him like Harry did, who always treated him with respect and care.

“C’mon,” Harry chided softly, leaning down to kiss him. “Just this once?”

“No,” Michael whispered, turning away from his lips. “I don’t want to.”

“Is this about that Ashley guy?” Harry asked, pulling back. “What happened between you two?”

“It’s _Ashton_ ,” Michael corrected bitterly. “And nothing happened.”

“Are you in love with him?”

Michael swallowed thickly, shoving Harry away gently so he could get up, reaching for his jeans and boxers on the floor.

“Don’t go,” Harry said, and the pout was evident in his voice. “We were just getting started.”

“I can’t,” Michael said quickly, his fingers shaking as he did up the button and zipper on his jeans.

He could feel the tears building and he wanted to leave before they fell. He found his t-shirt and hoodie and dressed quickly, looking back over at the bed. Harry was still lying there, hand around his cock and stroking languidly, watching his movements.

“Stay,” the Brit tried again.

“I can’t,” Michael whispered. “This was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Then what is it?” he asked. “You’re turning the tables on me? Is it payback?”

“No,” Michael insisted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe I’ve changed, maybe I want…a commitment.”

“A commitment?” Harry echoed. “I don’t do commitment, Michael.”

“I know,” Michael sighed. “Look, can we just pretend I didn’t come here tonight?”

Harry slid off the bed and pulled his underwear on and perched on the edge of the bed. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay?”

Michael shook his head, thinking of Ashton. “I really shouldn’t have come.”

“Alright,” Harry said softly, shrugging his shoulder. “Will you call me if you change your mind? Maybe we can have lunch?”

“Sure,” Michael said noncommittally. “I’ll see you later.”

He didn’t wait to hear what Harry had to say, he was pretty sure he didn’t _want_ to know. He needed to get out of there and stop making the same mistakes. Harry was a band aid that never fit, a pause in time that made him feel better for a tiny second before everything crashed down again.

He knew that his punishment for hurting Ashton was to feel the full force of his emotions. He’d gotten to this point being cavalier and assuming, and it had backfired in a major way.

He found his way to the car, sitting behind the wheel as he reached for his discarded phone, unlocking it and selecting the contact he really wanted to talk to.

“Hello?”

Michael let out a soft sigh. “Cal?” he murmured. “Can we talk?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is one monster of a chapter! I'm still under the weather and not getting much done, but I wanted to post a chapter for you guys, and this one is a biggie! I hope you all enjoy it in all it's heartbreaking glory!
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading/subscribing and leaving kudos and big thanks to Coco_Decon, DrunkOnDrarry, Skagger, shutupluke, annaisastupididiot, daisy_maus, rocketmail, thominhoplease, pizzatrash, chunkysalsa, milecgv, asickburn0ut, CupidGenie & Wizardofoz for their awesome comments. 
> 
> xoxo


	17. Chapter 17

It took eight days before Ashton texted.

Michael had been waiting for it, trying to prepare for what it might say, and the longer it took to come through, the more distressed he’d felt.

He knew it was his responsibility to make contact, _he_ was the one that should apologize for walking away and crushing Ashton’s heart. But he just _couldn’t_ , and he hoped that Ashton had more of a backbone than he did.

He’d spent his time trying to be proactive; avoiding Harry’s calls and trying to get ahead with his novel. It was hard, but Calum was his own personal cheerleader, texting multiple times a day with _I love you_ and _you’re awesome_ and despite how annoying it was, Michael was grateful.

At least _someone_ didn’t hate him.

He’d been working on the next issue of his novel when his phone had sounded, and he’d ignored it momentarily, sick of seeing the same positive messages from his best friend. Plus, he was in the _zone_ , working efficiently to sketch out some frames he didn’t completely hate.

His phone sounded again, reminding him of the text, and he paused with a sigh, leaning over to scoop it up.

He pressed the round button at the bottom of the phone, illuminating the screen, and instead of Calum’s name, _Ashton’s_ was there on the screen.

 _Hi_.

Michael unlocked his phone, looking at the two letter word, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. He wanted to respond, to apologize and try to fix their shattered friendship, but he wasn’t ready. He hadn’t made peace with Ashton’s confession, and he didn’t know how to talk about it.

He ignored it, locking his phone again and shoved it into his pocket.

**

“You’re ignoring my calls too?”

Michael sighed, tightening his grip on the doorknob to the front door of his house, avoiding Calum’s eyes.

“C’mon,” Calum prodded softly. “Luke already told me you’re dodging Ashton, but I thought you and I were good?”

Michael felt guilty, because he _had_ been leaning heavily on Calum over the previous three weeks. He’d call and they’d talk for hours, or Calum would show up with beer after training and they’d avoid talking about Ashton completely.

Michael didn’t _want_ to talk about it. He wasn’t ready to think about any of it, which he figured was why he’d started ignoring Calum’s texts after his friend had made a few pointed comments about how badly Ashton was dealing with things. He knew he meant well, but the gentle words only made him feel sick, and Michael knew that if he had any chance of putting Ashton’s confession behind him, he needed to avoid the topic completely.

He should’ve known Calum wouldn’t stand for it, though.

“Seriously,” Calum said tiredly. “Maybe _I_ need _you_ , did you think about that?”

Michael frowned, looking closely at his oldest friend. He could see bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders were slumped and his tank was still stained with sweat from training. Michael immediately felt like shit – _another_ thing to add to his list of fuck ups – and sighed, opening the door wider for Calum.

The other man stepped inside wordlessly, and shuffled down the hall in the direction of Michael’s bedroom and there was a part of Michael that didn’t want to follow him. It was selfish, he knew, but for some reason he felt like whatever was bothering Calum would be too much for him to bear.

Trying to avoid his thoughts about Ashton was a full time job, and he wasn’t sure if there was any room left inside of him for someone else’s plight.

But he forced himself to follow his friend, ducking inside his bedroom and shutting the door to see Calum collapsing down onto his bed.

“What is it?” Michael asked, crossing the room to fall down beside Calum. “Baby stuff? Luke stuff?”

“Oceshe shtuf,” Calum mumbled against the quilt.

Michael smiled, reaching out to run his fingers through Calum’s sweaty hair, tugging gently to turn his head. “Try again?”

Calum smiled tiredly, tugging one of Michael’s pillows down to cushion his cheek against. “Soccer stuff,” he repeated clearly. “Scouts.”

Michael groaned. He flopped back on his bed and pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead and mentally kicked his own ass.

 _Of course_.

“I forgot,” he admitted, turning to look at Calum. “I forgot and I meant to text you with a stupid good luck message but I was busy being an epic failure as a human being.”

Calum smiled, reaching out to poke at the soft white of Michael’s stomach that was revealed at his waist. “It’s okay.”

“It’s really not,” Michael sighed. “You said last week how nervous you were, and I should’ve _been there,_ Cal.”

Calum’s hand reached up to grab Michael’s wrist, tugging it away from his face and pressed Michael’s palm to his cheek. “It’s been a busy week,” he tried softly. “Between the baby and Luke and being really fucking _present_ for all the scout sessions, it’s…I don’t _know_ , Mikey.”

Michael dragged his fingertips over the bags under Calum’s right eye, his touch barely-there. “What happened?”

Calum sighed, closing his eyes. “When I showed up on Monday, the coach called a players meeting, and everyone was there from the board, and management. They said that there were three positions up for grabs in Shanghai, and that we wouldn’t find out until today.”

“Right,” Michael nodded, his fingers still stroking Calum’s face.

“We were all fucking scared,” Calum sighed. “I mean, everyone put on a brave face, but a few cracked under pressure. I thought I was _nailing_ it, right? I was on point, I was at my best and I thought I was in, right?”

Michael bit down on his bottom lip, feeling as though the next words out of Calum’s mouth would _change_ things.

“I didn’t get a spot in Shanghai.”

Michael released a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, and cupped Calum’s jaw, wriggling down closer to him to wrap his arm over his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Calum nodded in the small amount of space against Michael’s chest. “I was _crushed_ ,” he sighed. “Like, fuck those guys for not picking me, right? I was so _pissed_ , and my coach was probably _more_ pissed off. I didn’t want to go back and shower with the team and have to pretend to be happy for the three guys that made it, you know? So I hit the field and tried to run it out.”

Michael nodded, snuggling closer to his best friend.

“Then the coach was calling me over to meet some suit I’d never seen before, and what he said blew my mind. He said I was never going to be considered for Shanghai.”

“Well, fuck that guy,” Michael said passionately, a frown creasing on his forehead. “Seriously, what the fuck do they know?”

Calum chuckled softly; tiredly, and squeezed Michael’s hip. “I was never considered because they think I’m ahead of that program. It’s basically training with Tim Cahill, getting more exposure on the international level. So instead of doing that, which they think is way below my skill level, they want me to go to Brazil to train with the Socceroos.”

Michael frowned. Calum said a few words he didn’t quite understand, like _Tim Cahill_ and _Socceroos_ , and he wasn’t sure if this was good news.

“Ange Postecoglou had seen game footage that the team management had sent to him, and he wanted me to train in first grade to represent Australia, and integrate into the team in Brazil.”

“Wait,” Michael murmured softly. “That sounds kind of fucking amazing? Although I have no idea who those dudes are, I’m failing to see a problem?”

Calum lifted his head and rolled away from Michael and rubbed his eyes. “It’s more than amazing,” he admitted. “This is like the culmination of everything I’ve ever done with soccer, you know? This is the highest level and I’ve fucking reached it playing against Sydney teams, at twenty-fucking-six.”

Michael propped his head up on his hand, looking at Calum. “So why are you broken up about it?”

Calum looked over at him, his eyes dull. “Because I turned it down. I’m not going to Brazil.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I am guessing that everyone probably wants a quick fix to the Mashton problem...but I'm just not giving it to you! Instead, have some much needed Michael and Calum time, to give you all a side of the soccer thing that wasn't shown in Lay Me Down!
> 
> Thank you to everyone reading, subscribing and leaving kudos and special thanks to DrunkOnDrarry, Wizardofoz, chunkysalsa, pizzatrash, Coco_Decon, LeAnne, shutupluke, asickburn0ut, Migs, milecgv, Skagger & CupidGenie for their amazing comments!
> 
> xoxo


	18. Chapter 18

“Wait, _what_?” Michael demanded, his voice raising several octaves higher.

He sat up, staring down at the prone body beside him, like he could _force_ a reasonable explanation out of Calum’s mouth for the insanity he’d just heard.

“Don’t,” Calum sighed, his eyes shut and his arms wrapped around Michael’s pillow.

“I’m sorry,” Michael said, downright shocked at the almost passive way Calum spoke. “You _turned it down_? The _biggest_ , most _insane_ thing that could ever happen to you, and you said _no_?”

Calum blinked his eyes open, looking up at Michael. “I’m fine,” he said simply. “With my decision and passing on the opportunity.”

Michael slid off his bed, his hands suspended in the air, trying to grasp onto _something_ that he could use to change Calum’s mind.

“Honest,” Calum insisted, sitting up.

“No,” Michael blurted out. “ _No_ , Cal. I-I won’t stand for this!” he demanded, ignoring the pitchy whine of his voice. “You’re going to go back to those guys and tell them you changed your mind, that you’re going to Brazil.”

“No, I’m not,” Calum argued. “I politely declined, and that’s the decision I made.”

“It’s the wrong one,” Michael scoffed. “You’ve been talking your _whole life_ of playing representative soccer for Australia. And now, you’re telling me they basically _begged_ you to do just that, and you said _no_?”

Calum rubbed at his eyes, letting out a sigh. “I’m telling you that it’s not the right time. Accepting the Shanghai position for four months would’ve been hard enough, but this Brazil thing isn’t like that. It’s months of training, and possibly having to relocate there. It’s just not feasible.”

“Is this a Luke thing?” Michael demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. “Did he _say_ something to you to make you say no? Did he lay on the guilt trip?”

“No,” Calum frowned. “He doesn’t even know, and I’m not going to tell him. All he’s going to know is that I wasn’t picked for Shanghai, that’s it.”

“You can’t do this,” Michael insisted pleadingly. “Calum, this is your _life_ we’re talking about. Your _career_ that you’ve worked towards for ten fucking years. You _have_ to go.”

“I can’t,” Calum said flatly, standing up and tugged at the ends of his dark hair. “I have Luke and Ruby to think about, so I can’t just leave the country to play _soccer_.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “I’m seriously contemplating whether or not I should hit you. Because this isn’t the same Calum Hood that wouldn’t shut the fuck up about soccer for a solid six years back in high school.”

“I’m not the same guy I was back then!” Calum insisted. “I have a _family_ now!”

“A family you don’t want,” Michael scoffed.

Calum’s face fell, his lips turning down as he sagged back on Michael’s bed. “You can’t say that,” he mumbled softly.

Michael knew it was a low blow, knew that using something like Calum’s hesitance to be a dad against him was a dick move.

“I _love_ them both, so much,” Calum mumbled softly.

“I know,” Michael said gently, sitting down beside him. “But you’re not one hundred percent in, are you?”

“I don’t have a choice,” Calum sighed tiredly. “I told him I would be there for him, and that includes Ruby. Despite how I feel and despite this soccer thing, I can’t go back on my word.”

Michael felt torn.

He knew that Luke was struggling with the loss of Ben and Sarah, and the newfound fatherhood he’d been dumped into. He wouldn’t wish that stress on anyone, but he had to look objectively at the situation. Calum _deserved_ this opportunity, and it broke his heart to think that Calum was turning his back on it.

“I need you to be here for me,” Calum said softly, reaching out to lace their fingers together. “I’m going home, and I’m going to tell him I didn’t make it, and I’ll be sad and upset about it, but it is what it is,” he mumbled. “But I need you to let me cry and scream and yell about it, because it’s not how I thought my fucking life would end up, but here I am. I have Luke and I have Ruby, and that means – right now – that I can’t have soccer. I need you to _accept_ this, and I need you to support me.”

Michael squeezed his hand, running his thumb over the back of Calum’s hand. “I don’t like it,” he mumbled. “That your obligation to Luke is destroying your career.”

“He’s not a fucking obligation,” Calum muttered angrily.

Michael winced as Calum squeezed his hand tightly. “Alright, okay,” he relented. “But you get what I’m saying, right? That you feel you have to be here for him and the baby and that’s really noble, but it means that you can’t have Brazil.”

“I know,” Calum demanded. “I know _all_ of that, Mikey. I know that saying no will change everything, but the one thing it _won’t_ change, is Luke and Ruby. That is what needs to be stable.”

“I hate it,” Michael sighed tiredly. “But I’ll…support you.”

“Yeah?”

Michael nodded, even though it went against every part of him. “Anytime you need to scream or cry or yell, I’m here.”

Calum dropped his hand in favour of pulling Michael into a crushing hug. “Thank you.”

Michael nodded, and embraced him just as tightly, and realized for the first time in a little while, how he wished he could call Ashton and share the pain with him.

**

“Hey.”

Calum’s visits had become so regular, that Michael knew to keep his mini fridge in his man cave stocked with Coronas, and Blink 182 paused on his iPod. They’d meet at the front door and Calum would burrow into his arms, his nose pressed to Michael’s cheek and they’d hug for a moment or two, until Calum sighed tiredly and moved out of his arms to head down the hall.

Michael would share a look with his mum – who knew the entire situation and would hold Michael’s hand after Calum would leave, when he just didn’t _know_ how to help his oldest friend – and they’d lock themselves away and drink enough beer to have Calum smiling again.

The smile never quite reached his eyes, but Michael knew not to push. There had been so many of Calum’s visits that had ended in screaming matches, because Michael just didn’t know _how_ to keep his mouth shut sometimes.

They would fight about Luke, and Calum’s perceived _duty_ to take care of both him and Ruby, and Michael just couldn’t accept that this was a decision Calum was ready – or happy – to make.

But he quickly realized that yelling at his best friend wasn’t achieving anything – Calum wasn’t changing his mind, and he needed Michael to be what he promised to be – supportive.

“Beer?”

Michael nodded as he shut the door of his man cave, and collapsed onto the messy couch. He accepted the beer Calum extended to him before the other man was flopping down beside him.

“Bad day?”

Calum shrugged, twisting off the cap on his bottle before taking a long, slow drink. “Every day is a bad day.”

Michael bit down on his bottom lip, trying to avoid his feelings of inferiority, because _surely_ there was someone more qualified to help Calum than him. Michael felt like he should get his mum, because she knew how to comfort people, she knew what to say. Michael just felt like a blob of unhelpfulness.

“What about you?” Calum sighed, kicking his joggers up on the coffee table.

Michael shrugged, twisting the bottle cap off his beer, and clenched it in his fist. “I’m…fine,” he muttered. “Work, avoiding texts from Harry.”

“Harry, hm?” Calum questioned, taking another long drink of beer. “Didn’t he leave?”

Michael nodded, taking a small sip of beer. “Last weekend.”

“Is he still trying to…you know? After what happened after the game?”

Michael shifted uncomfortably, wishing that Calum had forgotten that entire, teary phone call. He wasn’t sure why he’d even admitted to going to see Harry after the soccer game, but every time it was mentioned it made him feel worse.

“He’s trying. Saying he’ll commit,” he mumbled, nodding his head. “I’m just…I don’t want to.”

Calum reached over and squeezed his knee before draining his beer. “I’m proud of you. That you didn’t sleep with him.”

Michael cleared his throat. “D-does Ash know?”

Calum shrugged. “Not sure, honestly. He was over last week for dinner but I didn’t really get any one-on-one time with him.”

Michael bit down on his bottom lip at the thought of the other man. He felt his stomach bottom out, like it did every time his phone would go off with a text from Ashton, but what was even worse were the phone calls.

He ignored every one, and despite wanting to hear Ashton’s voice, he knew he couldn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say, how to express his feelings which he hadn’t even figured out yet.

“I think he’s okay,” Calum offered. “If it makes you feel any better.”

Michael set his beer down on the coffee table, opening his palm to see the imprint of the bottle cap. “I miss him.”

Calum squeezed his knee again. “You know, you can fix that.”

Michael shook his head, clearing his throat. “How’d practice go?”

Calum rolled his eyes, reaching over Michael to grab his beer, taking a long sip. “It is what it is,” he commented. “I play my last game for the season the week after next, and then Luke is going back to work.”

It was another thing they’d had a fight about, when Calum had mentioned he’d volunteered to cut his soccer season short so he could stay home with Ruby when Luke went back to work. It wasn’t that Michael didn’t think it was noble and incredible, but it was just like Calum was sliding backwards, pulling himself so far away from soccer so it might hurt less.

Michael knew nothing would help, but he was willing to keep his mouth shut if it meant Calum wouldn’t look at him with his dark, empty eyes.

“It was Ben’s birthday yesterday,” Calum sighed.

Michael nodded, remembered getting the notification on his phone and feeling his stomach twist. He wanted to call Luke, to extend _something_ so the other man knew he wasn’t alone, but Michael didn’t trust his abilities. It had ended up slipping his mind in the end, but he hadn’t been able to shake the unsettling feeling.

“He fell to pieces,” Calum mumbled. “Like, I really thought he’d done something.”

Michael frowned. “Like what?”

Calum took another long pull from the pilfered bottle of beer. “He called me and he was really upset so I left practice, but I just felt _wrong_ , you know?” He shrugged. “I got home and I called out for him and he didn’t answer me and I thought…I thought he’d hurt himself.”

Michael’s eyes went wide, and he felt a little nauseous. “W-what?”

“The baby was screaming and when he finally answered me he was in the bathroom and I thought…” he sighed. “I thought I’d find him in a pool of his own blood or something.”

The horrific picture of what _that_ might’ve looked like punched a hole through Michael’s chest. He felt a little light headed, feeling a desperate sadness and desperation, even though he _knew_ Luke hadn’t done it. But the fact that Calum thought he _might_ , meant something serious.

“Jesus,” Michael whispered.

“It was just momentary,” Calum said quickly, trying to assuage his fears. “I don’t think like, I don’t think he’d really do it.”

Michael nodded, feeling his eyes burn. “Is he okay, Cal? Really?”

Calum shrugged. “I’m going to push him into grief counselling. He’s doing better, but who really knows, you know?”

Michael leant over to throw an arm around Calum’s neck, squeezing him gently. “You’re doing a great job.”

Calum let out a soft laugh. “Thanks. As long as he’s okay, I’m okay.”

Michael knew that wasn’t true, but he let the words die between them as he kept holding on.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, seven days since I updated?! Sorry guys! This was such a major cliffhanger, too! I hope you all enjoy the last part of this conversation, and that you get another glimpse into Calum's thoughts and feelings about Luke and Ruby. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading, subscribing and leaving kudos, and major super big thanks to KellyWoods, chunkysalsa, Coco_Decon, annaisastupididiot, akuma, Skagger, CupidGenie, Migs, asickburn0ut & horanswillie for their awesome comments!
> 
> xoxo


	19. Chapter 19

Michael snorted, jerking awake at the sound of his phone. The TV was still on, playing some late night show that he’d intended to watch, but clearly, his body clock wasn’t in agreeance. He was curled up under the covers, arms wrapped around his pillow and aching for sleep.

He’d been pushing himself to the brink with work, trying to keep on top of things and even possibly get ahead in regards to deadlines. His publisher was happy, his agent was happy, and that was really all that mattered.

It didn’t matter that he was practically _forcing_ the creativity out of his head, and he hoped that it didn’t come across in his work.

It was the reason he was falling asleep so early most nights, and the reason he felt disoriented when his phone rang at close to midnight.

He couldn’t get his hand on it fast enough, knocking it to the floor with a groan. The screen’s brightness made his eyes ache, and he half hung off the edge of his bed to find it, scooping it up just as it went silent.

He saw Ashton’s name when his eyes cleared, and he felt a pang of longing in his chest. He held the phone until the screen went dark, letting out a sigh into the air. He flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling for a moment.

He could feel his eyes drooping shut again when his phone made a soft sound, alerting him to a voicemail. Michael knew that listening to a midnight confession from the guy he had screwed things up with, was masochistic, at best.

It didn’t stop him from unlocking his phone and dialling into his mailbox, pressing the phone to his ear.

_“Hey, it’s me. I haven’t called in about a week because I was trying to be adult, right? Like, get the hint, Irwin, if he was interested he’d answer, right? I don’t even know why I called tonight, I don’t know why I’m leaving this message. I guess…I’m just sorry, Mikey. I knew you weren’t interested in me like that, and I ignored it, because I had feelings for you. And now I fucked it up. I’m sorry.”_

Michael felt sick, and he had a distant thought that maybe the only reaction he had to Ashton now was illness.

He deleted the message, because he knew his self-destructive behaviour wouldn’t stop there, that he’d listen to it over and over again until he felt numb. If he had any hope of healing the damage his relationship with Ashton had caused, he had to get his shit together.

He fell asleep hearing the older man’s voice in his head.

**

When Luke had called on an idle Tuesday afternoon and invited Michael to Ruby’s half-birthday party, he hadn’t hesitated to accept. The fact he even _wanted_ to throw a party was progress, and being able to see the relief in Calum’s eyes when they’d caught up later that day proved to Michael that things were getting better – slowly.

And Michael was happy for them, of course. He was happy to hear the excitement in Luke’s voice, and see that Calum’s shoulders weren’t as tense as they had been. His friends were finally getting _somewhere_ , away from the pain and anguish of the last few months and they couldn’t deserve it more.

His happiness was unshakable, until he was three beers in with Calum before the other man mentioned Ashton’s name.

And it all came crashing down.

 _Of course_ Ashton would be invited to the party. He was Luke’s best friend, and up until a few weeks ago, they’d all been friends.

Before Michael had slept with Harry and ruined everything with Ashton.

He hadn’t been able to shake his uneasiness at the idea of seeing him again, feeling like he was on the edge of a panic attack at random moments of the day. It had been a month, and Michael hadn’t said a single word to the other man. Ashton had stopped calling and texting after a little while, and Michael wasn’t sure if he felt relieved, or twisted up inside because of it.

He could hear Ashton’s voicemail playing over and over in his head, the soft, defeated words that slammed through Michael like a bullet. _He_ had done that, _he_ had caused the pain and he was powerless to fix it.

It was that voice in his head that kept him in his car in Calum and Luke’s driveway, his hands clenching the steering wheel as he tried to prepare himself for the awkwardness and guilt he’d no doubt feel.

He wasn’t sure what to say, if an apology was too late, if Ashton would even _look_ at him. He was starting to feel sick, and was half-tempted to breathe into a discarded McDonalds bag on the backseat of the car.

He was going to leave, he had to. He couldn’t go in there and pretend everything was okay, when it really, really wasn’t.

His hand moved to the key in the ignition and went to turn it, when a knock sounded to the left of him, and he jumped.

“Jesus!” he shouted, looking over at the closed window to see Ashton, a slight smile on his face and his hand raised in a wave.

Michael swallowed, his fingers trembling as he pressed the button for the electric window, and watched as the glass slid down.

“You okay?”

Michael felt a thousand words trapped behind his teeth, embarrassing ones, truthful ones, and he pressed his lips tighter together and nodded.

Ashton leant on the windowsill, looking a lot older than twenty-seven. Michael idly wondered if that was his fault, too.

“Look,” Ashton said softly, his eyes on the cup holders. “Let’s not let what happened take over today,” he suggested. “Luke’s really happy to throw this birthday party and I don’t want what happened with you and me to mess that up.”

“O-okay,” Michael said softly. “That sounds good.”

“How’ve you been?” Ashton asked, his hazel eyes warm when they met Michael’s.

“Busy,” Michael admitted with a shrug, his hands still clenching the steering wheel tightly. “I-I meant to call you back,” he murmured pathetically.

Ashton nodded. “It’s okay, Michael,” he said softly. “It’s…I’ve accepted it.”

Michael wanted to launch across the car and kiss him. He wanted to apologize and press his fingers against Ashton’s skin and steal his warmth from him again.

“C’mon,” Ashton said. “We should go in.”

He had a gift in his hand, the pink paper bright with a giant purple bow attached to it. It reminded Michael to get his own, a soft penguin plushie that had reminded him of the one Luke had when they were kids.

He put the window up and got out of the car slowly, feeling his stomach clench as he saw Ashton was waiting for him. He rounded the car, noticing the other man’s eyes were on his shoes, and Michael wasn’t _heartless_. He wasn’t a complete and total asshole, and he was completely driven by his heart when he reached for Ashton, pressing his nose against his neck for a moment in a barely-there embrace before he was pulling away and heading for the front door of Luke and Calum’s house.

His heart was pounding in his throat and he could feel sweat on the back of his neck.

It was unfair.

Ashton should hit him, should push him away and call him names, because he did _not_ deserve a hug after all he’d put the other man through. Michael was about to insist upon it, to get angry at Ashton for not being angry at him.

But he could feel his presence behind him, and tried not to let out a whimper as Ashton’s fingertips pressed into his wrist momentarily before he knocked on the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, have a little Mashton! I know it's been missing for a little bit, but they had to see each other eventually, right???
> 
> Thanks to everyone who is loving this, and special thanks to every single one of you who read/subscribed and left kudos, and super special BIG thanks to chunkysalsa, Wizardofoz, Skagger, Ashtxnirwins, rocketmail, asickburn0ut, thominhoplease, Coco_Decon, CupidGenie, annaisastupididiot, pizzatrash & aldal for their comments!
> 
> xoxo


	20. Chapter 20

“Well?”

Michael took a long sip from his bottle of beer, raising his brows at Calum.

The other man rolled his eyes, bouncing Ruby in his arms. “You’ve been here a half hour and this is the first chance I’ve got to ask you about Ashton.”

Michael looked in the older man’s direction, where he was talking to Luke in the kitchen. They were smiling over chips and dip, and the expression made Michael feel warm inside.

“Ask me what about Ashton?”

Calum rolled his eyes again. “You’re…did something _happen_?”

Michael snorted. “ _No_ , Calum. He saw me freaking out in my car and he was nice. It’s way more than I deserve.”

Calum sighed. “But did you talk?”

“No, not really,” Michael shrugged. “He just suggested we don’t let what happened between us to ruin the party.”

“Fix it,” Calum said softly, looking over at Ashton. “You know he’s still into you.”

Michael could feel a warm heat spread up his neck. “Yeah, well, I don’t know why. I’m seriously more trouble than he deserves.”

Calum opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Luke and Ashton’s arrival, and Ruby was positively _wriggling_ in Calum’s arms the moment she saw Luke. Her arms reached out to him, and Michael watched the absolute _joy_ settle on Luke’s face as he set down the platter of party food, and eagerly offered his arms out to the baby.

She pitched forward quickly, grabbing a handful of his t-shirt.

They seemed to fall into a private sort of conversation, and Michael couldn’t help the smile on his face. He knew that the circumstances around Luke becoming a dad were the worst possible one’s ever. He knew that no one _ever_ wanted to be a parent this way, and there was a part of him that thought maybe Luke would never feel like a real dad, would always feel like he was trying to fill shoes ten sizes too big for him.

But seeing him hold Ruby, and watching Luke nudge his nose gently against hers, Michael knew that no matter what, Luke was a _dad_ , and he was finally making peace with that.

**

There was something easy about the laughter the four of them shared as they sang to Ruby over her cake. Her smile was wide and eyes positively sparkling up at them all from Luke’s arms, and Michael was struck with just how different their lives were now.

The smooth way they sung together made him ache for the band that never was, and all those hours in his granny flat listening to Ashton drum away on the piece of shit cajon that was past it’s used by date when he got it.

They’d laughed and joked around as Luke played guitar and they fell into soft lyrics and tinny laughter as they attempted to record what they were doing. The videos got massive likes on YouTube but for some reason, it never went anywhere special.

Michael supposed it was for a good reason, because he dropped out of school not long after, and Luke and Ashton decided on uni while Calum devoted himself to soccer. It just made sense, the band that never was, but he was always reminded of it when they were crowded around a birthday cake, or when he was feeling particularly nostalgic and watching their old videos.

Now, it  was just _different_ , because Luke was holding a _baby_ and Calum was a dad too, whether he wanted to be or not, and Ashton was…Ashton was looking at him when he thought Michael wasn’t paying attention, but he could almost _feel_ the older man’s eyes on him.

And instead of making him uncomfortable, it filled him with a longing he’d been trying to push down for months now. It was getting exhausting, stifling his feelings and insisting he _had none_ when it came to Ashton.

He really was that stupid.

But he couldn’t focus on himself for too much longer, because Luke was offering him the baby and while Michael was not one hundred percent certain that he _knew_ how to hold a baby – and had spent most of Ruby’s life trying to avoid moments like this – he held out his hands for her.

She was pretty sturdy, a lot less breakable now than she was the day Luke had shown up on his doorstep after Ben and Sarah had died. She _smiled_ , now, shoving her fingers in her mouth as she reached her other hand up to paw at his soft, dark hair, letting out some sort of gurgle at the feel of it.

“You’re so weird,” he scoffed softly, because he was _not_ getting all mushy because of a baby.

She took her fingers out of her mouth and smeared them across his cheek and he groaned.

“You’re gross!” he hissed, and she _laughed_. The cutest baby laughter _ever_ and Michael handed her off to Luke quickly when he approached them, and disappeared into the kitchen for another beer.

**

Somewhere after Michael’s fourth beer – and after the third good-natured insult over Luke’s cake making abilities – conversation seemed to halt. It wasn’t uncomfortable; Ruby asleep on Luke’s chest after having cake and both Calum and Luke holding hands and trading a soft kiss or two, and Michael couldn’t help the scoff that escaped his lips.

Luke questioned him, and Michael couldn’t resist, calling them _disgusting_ to hide his blatant jealousy.

When Ashton agreed with him, Michael’s eyes moved towards him, and felt the pang of regret hit him harshly before he was looking away.

“Guys,” Calum sighed. “Fix it.”

Michael shifted uncomfortably, wishing he’d had _a lot_ more to drink. “Cal, c’mon.”

“Kiss and make up.”

Michael rolled his eyes and picked up his beer to drain the rest of it quickly, hoping it would do enough to ease the discomfort.

“Maybe you guys need mediators,” Luke pointed out. “It’s been weeks.”

“It’s not that simple,” Michael demanded softly.

“Are you still seeing Harry?”

Michael’s head shot up at the question, his eyes on Ashton’s, unwavering. “Uh, no,” he mumbled. “We broke up. Officially.”

“Okay,” Ashton mumbled slowly. “What does that mean, exactly?”

Michael huffed, setting his empty bottle aside and busied himself with a loose thread in the ripped knee of his jeans. “I told him I didn’t want to be his piece on the side. Convenient when he was in town. I wanted a commitment.”

“Oh.”

Michael swallowed, looking down at the loose thread. “He said he would,” he mumbled. “He’d commit, and I guess I just didn’t believe him. I told him not to call again.”

Ashton nodded slowly, his eyes on the floor.

“Ash...”

Michael could hear the sympathy in Luke’s voice, and it made him feel uncomfortable. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he had to go through this in the first place, but to have Luke and Calum in the audience didn’t make it any easier.

“I’m sorry,” Ashton apologized.

 “Don’t be,” Calum insisted. “We just want you to guys to be able to look at each other, okay?”

“ _I’m_ sorry,” Michael blurted out, his eyes on Ashton. “You were right, I shouldn’t have just slept with him without thinking of you first.”

Ashton’s hazel eyes met his. “I shouldn’t have told you how I felt in the way I did.”

Michael nodded, feeling somewhat nauseous and _completely_ exposed.

“I’m sorry I made it weird, and I’m sorry that our friendship is so shitty now.”

“I’m sorry too,” Michael mumbled.

Ashton cleared his throat. “Would you maybe like to get a coffee next week? Talk without these two assholes staring at us?”

Michael let out a soft laugh, and felt his heart kick in his chest. It was just so _Ashton_ to say something like that, because Michael was shit at feelings and he _knew_ that, and he was _saving_ him, even when he deserved to drown.

**

“Hey?”

Michael looked over at Ashton, hand in his pocket as he was digging his keys out, the street quiet around them. They’d left at the same time, and Michael knew that either Luke or Calum – or _both_ of them – would be watching from the window, but it still felt private, still felt like he and Ashton were the only two people left on earth.

“How’s Wednesday?” Ashton suggested. “For coffee?”

Michael nodded, gripping his keys in his hand. “That’s good, yeah.”

“Okay,” Ashton nodded.

Michael bit down on his bottom lip, looking at Ashton’s knees.

“It was so good to see you, Mikey.”

Michael lifted his eyes, meeting Ashton’s and he felt his fingertips tingle. “I’m so _sorry_ , Ash.”

Ashton walked over to him, curling his hand around the back of Michael’s neck, tangling in his hair. “S’okay.”

“It’s not,” Michael insisted softly, lifting his hand to wrap his fingers around Ashton’s wrist. “It’s so unforgivable and I’m _shit_ , okay?”

Ashton leant in, resting their foreheads together and his eyes closed. He looked so _beautiful_ up close, even if Michael was going cross-eyed trying to take in his honey blonde eyelashes and soft stubble on his chin.

“I’m shit,” Michael repeated again, the words soft and quiet.

Ashton exhaled, opening his eyes and stepped back. “We’ll talk on Wednesday, okay?”

Michael wanted to be greedy and tug him back in, trying to smooth away the worry lines at the edges of his eyes, wanting to massage out the tension from his shoulders. But he had no _right_ , he knew that. He’d turned his back on everything to do with Ashton and it was his fault.

All he could do was nod and watched as Ashton headed for his car.

**

Michael lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling. It had been a late night anyway, the four of them talking long after Ruby had fallen asleep, but after the few moments on Luke and Calum’s driveway with Ashton had sparked something inside Michael.

Wednesday was it. He’d need to have an explanation for all the shitty things he’d done, and he wasn’t sure if he’d have it. He knew he wanted to apologize – profusely, if Ashton would let him – but he wasn’t sure what he wanted, and what sort of things to say to the other man.

It wasn’t high school anymore; he was a functioning adult – mostly – and he couldn’t hide behind his emo fringe and shrug his shoulders and invite Ashton over to play Fifa. It hadn’t worked when they were kids, and there was no way it would work now.

He tossed and turned, feeling the frustration mount inside of him, and he would blame that for the reason he was throwing his sheets back and grabbing for his phone, dialling Ashton’s number quickly.

With each dull ring, his frustration grew, and by the time Ashton was answering with a soft, slow ‘h-hello?” he was _pissed_.

“Yeah, hi,” he barked out. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“What?” Ashton mumbled tiredly. “Michael?”

“Yeah, it’s _Michael_ ,” Michael almost spat out. “What was that shit tonight, Ash? Inviting me out for coffee? What do you expect?”

Ashton sighed. “I half expected this phone call.”

Michael wasn’t sure what that _meant_ , and he was about to spit out something rude when Ashton beat him to it.

“You’re such a fucking _bully_ ,” he griped. “Are you seriously calling me in the middle of the night to get mad at _me_ for wanting to see _you_?”

Michael faltered, feeling some of his anger fade. “What are you talking about?”

“This is what you _do,_ Michael,” Ashton sighed. “When you’re backed into a corner you get _mean_. It happened when we were fifteen, and it’s happening now, and I’m _telling you_ , Michael, that this shit doesn’t fly with me anymore. If you’re going to show up on Wednesday in the same pissy mood, you may as well not bother.”

Michael’s mouth fell open, and he felt all the anger drip out of him slowly.

“Now, I’m fucking _tired_ , so I’m going back to _bed_ ,” Ashton sighed, and hung up quickly.

Michael bought his phone down from his ear, staring it at as the screen went black.

Had that just _happened_?

He had called Ashton to let out his frustrations, and instead, Ashton had told him what was up, and _hung up_ on him.

Michael flopped back down on his bed – desperately _hard_ – and fell asleep thinking about Ashton.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love this chapter, because this is the start of Michael figuring things out! Plus, there's some nostalgia and more Luke/Ruby which I find incredibly heartwarming! But of course, Michael still tried to stuff it up ;)
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading/subscribing & leaving kudos and huge thanks to thominhoplease, CupidGenie, Migs, annaisastupididiot, chunkysalsa, love, Skagger, pizzatrash, tigerlily_sunshine & asickburn0ut for their comments!
> 
> xoxo


	21. Chapter 21

“Michael?”

Michael blinked, lifting his eyes from his desk to see his mother standing in the doorway to his room.

“You okay?” she questioned, easing the gold hoop earrings he’d bought her for her birthday out of her earlobes.

“Yeah,” he sighed softly, setting down his red graphic pen, cracking his knuckles.

“Oh, sweet boy,” she smiled, stepping into the room to take a seat on his unmade bed. “Tell me.”

He smiled, pushing himself away from his desk and swivelling on his chair to look at her. “You may have noticed that Ashton hasn’t been around in a while.”

Her knowing smile made him roll his eyes, and he wished there was an alternative than to reveal his deepest secrets to his mother. But it was Tuesday, and he was fast running out of time before he was due to see Ashton the following day, and he was nowhere closer to a breakthrough.

“I stuffed things up, mum,” he admitted quietly. “With Ashton, I mean. Things were going well, you know, but I freaked out.”

“Honey,” she eased softly. “It’s okay to like him.”

“Is that what this is?” he questioned softly. “Because I feel nauseous all the time, and my hands get sweaty and my heart beats fast and it all feels like symptoms of a disease. I literally googled it, and I’ve probably had a few small strokes over the course of the last few days.”

She smiled. “What you described can sometimes be a stroke,” she teased. “But that’s how I felt about your dad when we were kids. I would sweat and my face would go red and he’d smile at me and I’d feel sick.”

“Really, _dad_?” Michael snorted.

“Hey,” she laughed. “Your dad was quite a catch back in the day, and he still is. I still get a little loopy sometimes when I think of him.”

“But how does that help _me_?” Michael sighed.

Karen stood up, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Think about it, sweetheart. The answer isn’t that hard to figure out.”

“But can’t you tell me?” he whined, grabbing onto her hand.

She laughed. “That wouldn’t be right. When it comes to matters of the heart, you need to really find the answer for yourself.”

“Ugh, and you call yourself a mum,” he scoffed, a teasing smile on his face.

She laughed and pressed a kiss to his temple before leaving his room, easing the door shut after her.

Michael started at the door for a long moment, his brows knitted together as he tried to figure out what it all _meant_. Because he couldn’t show up the following day without some sort of answers, because at the very least, he owed Ashton that much.

It took him all of twenty minutes to realize he was going nowhere fast, and despite _trying_ to figure it out, he knew he had to trust in a higher power.

Google.

**

Michael smoothed out the pages in front of him, trying to ease out a few of the creases from the white pages, folding them in half neatly and slid them to his right. He drummed his fingers against the tabletop in front of him, checking his watch for the thousandth time as he waited for Ashton to arrive at the horribly pretentious coffee shop that Michael would _never_ step foot in if it wasn’t for the older man.

His fingers passed over the pages again, tearing them in one corner and he had to physically tuck his hands under his thighs to keep from destroying them entirely. He hadn’t been able to put them down after printing out the pages the night before.

He felt _stupid_ , but the more articles he read, the more convinced he was that he _wasn’t_ having a stroke, as he previously thought.

No, this was much worse.

This was _feelings_.

He’d been in denial, even as he clicked links to different studies and read different recounts of people’s experiences, and he was convinced that he was going through something people seemed to go through every day without his outlandish reactions and insistences that he was ill.

He had feelings for Ashton.

He’d thrown up twice the night before, and once that morning, staring at his reflection in the mirror and finding absolutely no solace in the knowledge that his slamming heartbeat meant he had feelings for his best friend and _not_ that he was dying.

He’d planned to cancel their coffee date completely. Not long after his mother had made him a cup of ginger tea and dry toast and assured him that he would be okay. He just wasn’t sure if he agreed with her, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get a single word out in front of Ashton.

But as he reached for his phone, Michael knew he couldn’t cancel. There was a part of him that _wanted_ to see Ashton; to hold his hand and feel his warmth and maybe try and go for normalcy in his life, instead of running away.

So he’d showered and felt numb as he got dressed and dropped his mum off at work so he could have the car, and he ended up almost an hour early to the café, taking a seat in a cosy padded booth to wait.

The worst part about his realization was thinking of all the shitty things he’d done. Using Ashton, pushing him away, and sleeping with Harry the moment things got too real.

He was silently torturing himself for those things when someone stopped beside his table, fingertips pressing against the tabletop.

“Michael?”

Michael looked up at Ashton, feeling his stomach clench in anxiety. “Hi.”

Ashton looked amazing, in tight black skinny jeans and a grey button down shirt, rolled up to his forearms. His hair looked wild, and his arms looked inviting and Michael _wanted_ him, and he realized that it wasn’t just physical, he wanted _more_.

Ashton smiled. “Have you ordered?”

Michael shook his head.

“Coffee?” Ashton offered.

“No,” Michael said. “Wait, I mean _yes_ , but can you like, sit down first?”

Ashton frowned, sliding into the booth opposite from Michael, and it was nowhere near close enough. “Are you okay?”

Michael bit down on his bottom lip, trying to calm his heart. “I just feel like I have a lot to say and I feel really sick about it, so if I just _say_ it, I might feel better.”

Ashton placed his hands, palms down on the table and looked over at him with concern. “It’s okay,” he eased.

“No,” Michael shook his head, straightening up in his seat. “I’ve been thinking about it nonstop lately and trying to figure out what to say to you to explain all of it, and I don’t _know_ , Ash. I don’t know why I hurt you and did some really shitty things but I’m _sorry_.”

“Hey, I know,” Ashton said softly, sliding a hand toward him, dancing his fingertips over the back of Michael’s hand. “I didn’t want you to do this to yourself,” he eased. “I don’t want you worried and upset.”

“That’s just it, I _should_ be worried and upset,” Michael insisted. “Because what happened between us was incredible, Ash, and I did so many terrible things to fuck it up.”

Ashton picked up his hand, curling his long fingers around Michael’s. “C’mon,” he eased, a smile on his face. “Just look at me, yeah? I’m not here to yell at you or tell you you’re a shitty person.”

Michael let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I know. It’s kind of aggravating, you know. If you yelled, at least I could yell back. I’m not used to this shit.”

Ashton reached over and tapped the folded pages to Michael’s right. “So what’s this, hm? Did you write a speech?”

Michael rolled his eyes and let out a scoff. “ _Please_ , I’m not that pathetic.”

Ashton laughed. “How about I get us some coffee, okay? Not sure about you, but I haven’t had my usual dose.”

“Yeah?” Michael smiled. “Big morning?”

“The biggest,” he smiled. “Let me get some caffeine and I’ll fill you in.”

**

“And so he said he’d never work with me again, and stormed out, instead the door slammed on his jacket and he had to come back into the control room again to free it!”

Michael laughed, his coffee long gone and his fingers curled loosely with Ashton’s.

They’d fallen into light conversation over their coffees, and Michael had been relieved. Normalcy seeped in and Michael felt comfortable, felt _right_ , sitting there with Ashton and talking about absolutely nothing.

“So, come on,” Ashton smiled, pushing his empty mug away. “What’s with the paper?”

Michael looked at the folded pages and felt his cheeks flush. “It’s stupid.”

“No it’s not,” Ashton eased softly. “C’mon, I’m sure it’s not stupid.”

Michael sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “It’s stupid, because I needed to use google to figure out what my problem is. Turns out, I’m not having a stroke – luckily – and the diagnosis isn’t life threatening.”

“Well good,” Ashton smiled.

“Before we do the paper,” Michael sighed, reaching out to clasp his hands around Ashton’s. “I have to apologize. And not just for the obvious bullshit; the Harry stuff and using you, but for the very start of us, Ash. For not putting our friendship first before we slept together.”

“We were both guilty of that,” Ashton eased. “We were both in different places when it first happened.”

“It was all it took,” Michael admitted softly. “For me to get attached to you, because I’ve never felt that way about someone before. You made me feel safe.”

Ashton smiled shyly, looking down at their hands.

“And instead of accepting that, I just…shit all over it. And with every nice thing you ever did, I pushed you away. I _yelled_ at you for taking me to dinner at your mum’s place. Who even _does_ that?”

Ashton squeezed his hand, tugging on them gently. “What do you want me to say?” he asked. “You broke my heart, Michael. But half of the responsibility of it is mine, because I _knew_ you weren’t coping. I knew you weren’t and I slept with you anyway, and I tried to force you into wanting what I wanted, and that wasn’t right.”

“Please don’t apologize to me,” Michael whispered. “Seriously, you were nothing but perfect and you were there when I needed you and I just pushed you away.”

“So why, hm?” Ashton asked. “Why did you push me away and sleep with Harry and ignore my calls?”

Michael pulled his hands away from Ashton’s and reached for the papers, easing them open and smoothed them down before sliding them Ashton’s way.

Ashton picked them up, his brow creased into a soft frown. “Thirteen scientifically proven signs you may have feelings for someone.”

Michael nodded. “Read them.”

Ashton’s eyes scanned further down the page. “Number four,” Ashton mumbled. “ _I wish I could be with him all the time_. Really?”

“Yeah,” Michael nodded. “Keep going.”

“ _Number eleven, it’s not about sex._ When did that happen?”

Michael smiled. “After the second time, I think. Or when you slept over for the first time. I didn’t even want to have sex, you know?”

“Thanks?” Ashton grinned, screwing his nose up.

Michael laughed. “It’s a compliment, you dick.”

“Suuuure,” Ashton winked, turning his attention back to the paper. “ _Number twelve, I feel out of control_.”

“That one is a big one,” Michael commented. “Like, I haven’t felt like I’ve been in control for the last six months.”

“Me either,” Ashton admitted. “It’s reckless, you know?”

Michael nodded. “I do know. I guess the point of all this is I realized that the reason I pushed you away was because I was developing feelings for you, and I didn’t know it because I’ve never felt that way about anyone.”

Ashton smiled, his eyes on the page for a few moments before looking up at Michael. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Michael whispered softly. “Which is why I pushed you away, and freaked out at you about dinner with your mum. It’s why I slept with Harry, to prove to myself I didn’t have feelings for you, only I didn’t know it at the time.”

“God, I hated when I showed up to see you and he was there. Looking so smug and fucking half-naked and I knew you’d slept with him. I knew it and it was devastating.”

Michael reached out for his hand again, squeezing gently. “I hate myself for it,” he admitted. “I hated _him_ for it, but it wasn’t his fault. It was all mine and I’m so sorry.”

“Where do we stand?” Ashton whispered.

Michael had asked himself that question repeatedly, because he knew it was something Ashton would want to know. More than that, he _deserved_ to know what was going on inside his head.

“I,” he began softly, fingers tracing a pattern over Ashton’s palm. “I have _feelings_ for you,” he whispered, the words sounding foreign to his ears. “I-I _like_ you, Ash. And I want to _try_.”

“Try what?” Ashton asked, capturing his fingertips. “To fix our friendship?”

Michael looked up at him, feeling nausea pass over him again. “I want what we had. I want you to sleepover and take me to dinner at your mum’s so I can apologize and I want you to have dinner at my place and if you have a work thing I’d like to go and hold your hand and maybe have a toothbrush in your apartment and we can hold hands when we’re in your car, right? Like if we drive to Byron for a long weekend because you rented an apartment so we could relax I would want to hold your hand the whole way there,” he said in a rush, the words tumbling so quickly out of his mouth that he could barely keep up.

Ashton couldn’t seem to either, and he let out a soft burst of laughter. “You wanna hold my hand?”

Michael rolled his eyes as his cheeks flushed pink. “Shut up, God. Why do I want to date you?”

“You want to date me?” Ashton smiled, his eyes dancing. “Really?”

Michael smiled back at him. “If you’ll have me. If you can forgive me, and if we can take it easy. I’m not…the _love_ stuff freaks me out.”

Ashton stood up, and for a second, Michael thought he was going to walk out. That if Michael wasn’t in love with him, he was out.

He let out the breath he’d been holding as Ashton slid into the booth beside him, reaching for his hand again. “Then we’ll take it slow,” he murmured. “And we’ll hold hands and have sleepovers and mum can make lasagne again.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m kind of a mess and incredibly high maintenance.”

Ashton smiled. “Eh, so is Lauren, and you don’t see me disowning her do you?”

Michael made a face. “Are you comparing me to your sister, because that’s weird, dude.”

Ashton rolled his eyes. “Oh shut up, you get what I mean.”

Michael smiled, leaning in closer to Ashton and inhaled his cologne. “I missed you.”

“I know what you mean,” Ashton mumbled softly, his hand reaching up to cup Michael’s jaw, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

“No one has ever been in love with me before.”

Ashton let out a breathy laugh, pressing his lips to Michael’s skin again. “I feel like I should say you’re welcome, but that’s weird.”

Michael sat back. “I mean it,” he insisted. “No one has ever said that to me before and it’s nice, Ash. And I’m not saying that I won’t get there someday with you, I just…when I say it, I want it to really mean something.”

“I know,” Ashton mumbled. “I’m sorry I said it the way I did, I used it against you. It’s not how I wanted you to find out.”

Michael nodded. “Can we just clean slate it? Put everything back in its place and just get there together?”

“Anything you want,” Ashton promised softly. “But if it’s okay with you, I just want to kiss you right now.”

Michael’s cheeks flushed and he looked down at the tiny buttons on Ashton’s shirt before he felt the older man’s fingers hooking gently under his chin.

“That okay?” Ashton mumbled.

“Yeah,” Michael breathed out, grabbing a hold of Ashton’s shirt to pull him in gently.

Ashton smiled, leaning in to close the gap and brushed their lips together softly.

Michael let out a soft, contented noise, and felt Ashton’s lips curve against his in a smile.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS! Michael isn't hopeless anymore! He turned to Google and got the answer we all knew was coming - he likes Ashton! I loved writing this chapter and I hope you all love reading it!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who is reading, subscribing and leaving kudos and huge thanks to thominhoplease, Wizardofoz, chunkysalsa, annaisastupididiot, rocketmail, asickburn0ut, Ashtxnirwins, Migs, KellyWoods, CupidGenie & dreamforlife for their awesome comments!
> 
> xoxo


	22. Chapter 22

“Woah, woah, stop.”

Michael whined softly, pulling back from Ashton from where they were squished up in the backseat of the older man’s car.

“Stop?” Michael panted.

Ashton grinned, his shirt unbuttoned and hanging open, his mouth bruised and wet. “Just, the stupid seatbelt is in my back.”

Michael rolled his eyes, sitting back on his haunches as he watched Ashton wriggle around to free himself.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, feeling his stomach clench in nerves as he took a look outside the window.

After coffee, they’d taken a drive up the coast a little way, parking under a shady tree to talk. Michael hadn’t laughed as much as he had in the last month, than in the first twenty minutes of being with Ashton.

He laughed until his stomach hurt, his hand joined with the other man’s and hadn’t hesitated to crawl into the backseat and dragged Ashton with him.

They traded soft kisses in-between soft words, and Michael felt more alive than he had in months. It was so _easy_ to fall into happiness with Ashton, with his gentle hands and great cologne and soft words. Michael was _alive_ , and so, so aware of rushing into things too quickly.

Once Ashton had settled, Michael leant over, curling against his chest and tucked his head under Ashton’s chin.

“You okay?” Ashton asked softly, rubbing Michael’s back.

“Yeah,” he answered. “This is just really nice, you know?”

Ashton smiled. “I do know. Do you want to stay the night at my place?”

Michael bit down on his bottom lip and lifted his head to look at Ashton.  “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

Ashton ran his fingers through Michael’s soft hair. “Do you?”

“I don’t want to stuff this up,” Michael admitted. “Now that you’re here and we’ve figured it out.”

“I want you to stay,” Ashton said softly. “It doesn’t have to be more than that.”

“No,” Michael said quickly. “I want it to be more, Ash.”

He smiled. “I’d rather that more happened at my place than in the backseat of my car.”

Michael grinned. “Yeah, probably a good idea.”

Ashton leant down and kissed him slowly, cupping his jaw. “I’m so glad I’ve got you.”

Michael could feel the heat spread up his neck, and he pressed his lips a little more urgently to Ashton’s and let the words wash over him like a wave.

**

“Are you nervous?”

Michael bit down on his bottom lip harshly, almost wincing at the pressure. He looked up at Ashton’s deep hazel eyes, wondering if he should lie or be honest.

“C’mon,” Ashton whispered, settling against him. “It’s okay if you are.”

Michael _was_.

He was completely, one hundred precent shit-scared. He wasn’t sure when it started, whether it was after they’d delivered Michael’s mum’s car off to her at work and went and ordered Thai take out to take to Ashton’s, or if it was sometime after dinner, when All Time Low was playing softly in the background and Ashton was sucking a hickie into his throat.

But now – _now_ – that he was underneath Ashton, on Ashton’s _bed_ , the anxiety was hitting him full force.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Michael rushed, out, his hands on Ashton’s biceps. “I really, really do,” he added, though the desperate hardness in his pants wasn’t exactly unnoticeable. “I’m just nervous.”

Ashton nodded, settling easily against him, their lower halves pressed together in the messy sheets of his bed. “We don’t have to.”

Michael smiled, rubbing his hands over Ashton’s bare back, tracing over a freckle he could feel and pressed a kiss to his chin. “Ash, I want you,” he mumbled. “You know I do.”

Ashton grinned. “Yeah, I do,” he mumbled back. “I just like hearing you say it.”

Michael rolled his eyes and punched him weakly in the shoulder. “You’re a dick.”

Ashton laughed. “What can I do to help you?”

Michael smiled, parting his legs a little wider so Ashton could fit more comfortably against him. “Kiss me.”

Ashton pursed his lips. “Yeah, I could do that,” he agreed. “Or…”

Michael rolled his eyes as Ashton started kissing down his neck, his teeth dragging his t-shirt down further so he could bite one of Michael’s collarbones.

“Is that working for you?” he mumbled.

Michael laughed softly, his fingers combing through Ashton’s wild hair. “It’s not _not_ working.”

“Good,” Ashton mumbled, rocking his hips forward as he started to suck at the skin stretched over the prominent bone.

Michael let out a shaky breath, baring his shoulder some more.

Ashton’s mouth moved lower, licking over his skin and Michael moaned.

“Okay,” he whispered, tugging at Ashton’s hair gently. “I need you to get more naked.”

Ashton laughed, lifting his head. “Jesus, I am _good_.”

Michael rolled his eyes, shifting around so he could pull his shirt off, throwing it over Ashton’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a God,” he intoned.

“Hey,” Ashton pouted, his hands moving to Michael’s belt. “That’s mean.”

Michael smiled, pulling Ashton in for a slow kiss, curling his tongue into his mouth.

Ashton groaned, his hands palming Michael’s hips and tugged on them so he could grind against him, leaving them both panting into each other’s mouths.

Michael whimpered, breaking the kiss to breathe, and buried his face in Ashton’s neck. “God, you feel so good.”

“Yeah?” Ashton mumbled, his hands abandoning Michael’s hips to keep unbuckling his belt, tugging it open quickly. “I’ve missed you, Mikey. Missed you under me.”

It wasn’t a particularly _hot_ thing to say, but Michael choked out a moan. Ashton’s hands were tugging at his pants and he was lifting his hips and then all of a sudden he was _naked_.

“Mikey,” Ashton whispered, palming at his thighs. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Michael’s hands felt heavy, like they were moving in slow motion as he tried to unbuckle Ashton’s belt, but didn’t get anywhere fast.

Ashton pushed his hands away, pinning his hands to the bed. “Let me,” he whispered.

Michael nodded, biting down on his bottom lip as he watched Ashton undo his pants, shucking both them and his boxer briefs down and off, and Michael whimpered.

Ashton groaned, wrapping a hand around himself for a moment, taking the edge off.

Michael bit down on his lip again, tasting the metallic tang of his blood, and ran his hands up Ashton’s inner thighs.

“God,” Ashton groaned, looking down at him with a wrecked smile on his face. “I love you.”

Michael faltered momentarily, his smile slipping.

“Shit,” Ashton whispered, leaning down to cup Michael’s jaw. “I’m sorry. I just wasn’t thinking and it slipped out.”

Michael swallowed and felt like _shit_ , because seriously. “You don’t have to apologize,” he said softly. “God Ash, don’t apologize for loving someone. _I’m_ sorry because I’m such a fucking loser when it comes to feelings.”

“It’s okay,” Ashton mumbled, kissing over his cheeks. “I want you to say it when you’re ready.”

Michael nodded, and he _promised_ himself he would. He’d say it a thousand times when it was right, and he knew he’d never stop saying it again.

“Just let me make you feel good,” Ashton whispered, his large hand palming Michael’s hip, rocking against him.

“Yeah,” Michael agreed quickly. “Yeah, want you to fuck me.”

“Shit,” Ashton mumbled, his mouth finding Michael’s in a searing kiss.

The kiss didn’t last long, not with Ashton rocking his hips against Michael’s, the rough drag of his dick against the coarse hair at the base of Michael’s erection enough to leave them panting.

“S’okay,” Michael groaned, wrapping an arm around Ashton’s shoulders, licking into his mouth. “Want you to, okay?”

“Yeah,” Ashton promised softly, kissing down his throat. “Need to let go, babe. I need to get the lube.”

 _Babe_. It was kind of cute, and it made Michael smile in secret as Ashton slid off of him and rolled toward the heavy wood of the bedside table, tugging open the drawer.

Michael’s eyes started on the back of his neck, travelling down his muscular back to the curve of his ass cheeks, just visible underneath the grey sheet. He was _beautiful_ , and Michael felt unworthy and had to bite down on his bleeding lip to keep from saying the words.

Ashton rolled back towards him with a bottle of lube in hand, and a condom in the other. “You okay?”

Michael’s teeth released his lip and he nodded. “Yeah. Just, we don’t have to use a condom, if you’d like?”

Ashton looked down at the foil square in his hand and back at Michael. “I mean, yeah? A part of me thought that the only reason we didn’t use one those few times was because we were both too lazy to buy more?”

Michael smiled. “That sounds fairly indicative to my personality,” he nodded. “But I mean…I _enjoy_ it without.”

“Ohhh,” Ashton smirked, throwing the package off the side of the bed. “Care to elaborate?”

“No!” Michael said shrilly, his cheeks turning red. “A girl never kisses and tells.”

“I don’t see any tits,” Ashton pointed out bluntly. “C’mon, baby. Tell me how you like it.”

Michael rolled his eyes, his cheeks burning hot. “You’re such a jerk.”

Ashton laughed – verging on a _giggle_ – and he buried his face in Michael’s neck. “Alright, alright,” he relented softly. “Just, are you sure? I mean, I know you were with Harry and I wasn’t exactly…” he sighed, trailing of.

Michael’s brow creased into a frown. “Did you see someone while we were apart?”

“Two someones,” Ashton admitted softly. “Just once with two different guys,” he said quickly. “I was upset and angry and I was trying to prove to myself that I didn’t need you-“

“Ash,” Michael interrupted softly. “You don’t owe me any explanations,” he murmured. “God, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“Are you sure?” Ashton frowned. “Because I feel awful about it.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Michael insisted. “Thank you for telling me, though. Maybe we should use a condom then, and get tested? Just to be safe?”

Ashton nodded. “Yeah, of course. I used protection with the other guys, just so you know.”

“Yeah,” Michael murmured. “I did too, with Harry. I was only with him that one time. I mean, I tried to…” he admitted.

“It’s okay,” Ashton whispered, kissing over his lips gently. “We both made mistakes, yeah?”

“Definitely,” Michael agreed. “But we’re together now, okay? It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah,” Ashton murmured, leaning in to kiss him softly. “Doesn’t matter.”

For all the sex he’d had – and it wasn’t _a lot_ –Michael had never felt cared for, not how Ashton cared for him. How he _respected_ him. And Michael never knew that _respect_ would be such a turn on, but he was almost keening for it by the time Ashton had kissed him breathless and spilled lube over his fingers before easing his index finger inside.

Michael gasped into his neck, his toes curling and nails dragging over Ashton’s shoulders.

The other man was humming, quickly preparing him with one finger, and then another, scissoring him open gently, kissing over his throat.

Michael planted his left foot on the bed, his knee bent as he pushed back against the pressure of his fingers. “Ash,” he whimpered, his breath coming in quick pants. “More, okay? Just keep going.”

“Yeah,” Ashton groaned softly, and not before long, he was sliding in a third finger, opening Michael up gently.

“I just want,” Michael whined softly, biting down on his bottom lip. “I want you, c’mon.”

“Want you too,” Ashton whispered, thrusting his fingers in a few more times before pulling them out. “I don’t want anyone else but you.”

Michael lifted his head off the pillow to kiss him, wrapping one leg around Ashton’s thighs.

Ashton’s lube slicked fingers smeared over his hip, but Michael didn’t care, pulling him in closer in a searing kiss. While he wanted more, he wanted the kisses too, far too greedy to decide which was more important.

Ashton pulled away, panting and breathless, grabbing for a condom.

“Hurry up,” Michael whispered, pushing the sheets back so Ashton could kneel between his legs.

The older man tore the condom open quickly, throwing the packaging off the bed before rolling it on quickly, leaning down over Michael to kiss him. “Ready?” he breathed.

“Yeah, _yes_ ,” Michael whispered. “Need you to fuck me.”

“Gonna love you,” Ashton moaned, wrapping one hand around the back of Michael’s right knee, pushing it up against his chest.

“Yeah, Ash,” Michael whispered. “Want you to love me.”

Time sped up and slowed down all at once before Ashton was pressing inside, sinking in hot and fast and Michael was hiccupping out his breaths into Ashton’s shoulder.

Ashton groaned, holding tightly onto to Michael’s thigh as he started a slow, burning rhythm, rocking his hips and grinding himself into Michael, his mouth skimming over his shoulder.

Michael curled his other leg over Ashton’s hip, his hands sliding over his bare back, holding him close.

He got lost in it, the intense movements of Ashton inside of him, and the wet breath against his neck and just how _loved_ Michael felt, even though they weren’t exchanging words. It made him want to _say_ it, but he knew it wouldn’t be for the right reasons.

But for the first time, he realized he _wanted_ to get to that point, he wanted to fall in love with Ashton.

“God, you’re so perfect,” Ashton groaned softly.

Michael whimpered, kissing over his jaw, pulling him in closer. “You make me perfect,” he panted out. “Feel perfect when I’m with you.”

The old Michael would’ve thought it was ridiculous to say something like that during sex. He would’ve snorted and rolled his eyes and called himself names, but for some reason – with Ashton – it felt _right_.

And Michael finally realized he was tired of being _wrong_.

He was falling head first into Ashton, and he never wanted to stop.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so happy that you guys are stoked the guys are back together! I have really loved writing Michael after his epiphany, because he's almost a grown up! He's finally ready to take things to the next level with Asthon. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading/subscribing & leaving kudos! Special thanks to Wizardofoz, dreamforlife, Skagger, irwah, annaisastupididiot, Migs, rocketmail, thominhoplease, chunkysalsa, Coco_Decon, shutupluke, tigerlily_sunshine & CupidGenie for their awesome comments!
> 
> xoxo


	23. Chapter 23

“Oh, so you _do_ still live here.”

Michael rolled his eyes, releasing the hold he had on the doorknob to his house, letting it swing open slightly so Calum could enter.

He did so with a smug smile on his face, lightly shoulder checking Michael as he passed, and whistled as he strutted down the hall towards his man cave.

Michael let out a soft grunt, shutting the door and followed after him, knowing he was probably going to have to have the awkward conversation with his best friend and give him a reason as to _why_ he’d basically dropped off the grid for the past three days.

It wasn’t a particularly grand tale; Michael had been with Ashton until that morning, deciding that hiding from the world with him was probably bordering on unhealthy, and the sad face emojis in his mother’s texts were pulling on his heartstrings.

“So, c’mon,” Calum insisted, dropping down onto the couch and kicked his heels up onto the coffee table. “Were you abducted by aliens? Were you _probed_?”

Michael rolled his eyes and slammed his bedroom door shut – just in case his mother came home early – and dropped down beside Calum.

“Maybe I was,” he replied smartly. “But not by aliens.”

Calum burst out into soft laughter that sounded suspiciously like _giggles_. “Seriously, dude. Luke has been trying Ashton and he’s gone uncommunicative too.”

Michael shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

Calum rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re not going to sit there and convince me that’s true,” he insisted. “Because I know you’ve been with him, and I know that it _means_ something, Michael. Please don’t tell me you two are back to being vague again.”

“We’re not,” Michael said softly, looking down at his fingers. “Look, I just don’t want to jinx it.”

Calum reached over and gripped his fingers, lacing them together. “Are you happy?”

Michael felt the weird nausea again – it was his _feelings_ popping up to say hello – and he sighed. “Yeah, okay? I’m happy.”

Calum grinned, tugging his hand sharply, and kept tugging until Michael pitched forward into his arms. He pressed a messy, wet kiss to Michael’s cheek, licking over his temple.

“You’re so gross,” Michael muttered, relaxing into the embrace for a moment before pushing away, wiping at his face with his hand.

“Hey, my best friend is finally experiencing human emotions,” Calum pointed out. “This is a _good_ thing, Mikey. Why do you look like someone just kicked a puppy in front of you?”

He sighed. “It’s not like that,” he stressed. “I just…if I say it, it makes it real, which means I could get _really_ hurt.”

“That’s the risk,” Calum said softly. “In any relationship, you’re always going to be risking something, and in this case, it’s your heart.”

“I don’t like that,” Michael admitted with a sigh. “I don’t like that by having feelings for someone means you could get your heart ripped out of your chest.”

Calum smiled, sitting back in his seat. “You have feelings for him?”

Michael groaned, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I- _yeah_ , okay? I have _feelings_ for him, and if you tell Luke, I’ll _kill_ you.”

Calum rolled his eyes. “He’d be happy for you, you know? He’s not a total jerk.”

“I know,” Michael griped. “But I gave him shit when you two got together and I know there’s karmic retribution hanging over my head.”

The smile on Calum’s face was permanent, and it was unnerving.

“What?” Michael muttered moodily.

“Tell me what he’s like.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Are you stupid? You _know_ Ashton.”

“Yeah,” Calum nodded. “As a best friend; _not_ a boyfriend.”

Michael huffed out a sigh. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh, he’s your boyfriend,” Calum laughed. “Seriously, dude.”

Michael knew that yes – _okay_ – Ashton was probably the only person in his entire dating life that could be called a boyfriend. And he _knew_ that they were in a relationship, without having to actually _say_ the words, because that would be _mortifying._

But it still sounded _wrong_ to his ears, and it had nothing to do with the older man. It was Michael’s hang ups; his completely fucked up headspace and he knew he’d have to talk to Ashton about it – apparently that’s what people _did_ when they were in a relationship – but he didn’t really want to.

“Did you know he slept with other people while we weren’t talking?”

Calum nodded, humming softly. “Luke told me, yeah. Does that bother you?”

“No,” Michael said quickly, wrinkling his face up. “Well, I mean. I don’t like the idea of him being with anyone else.”

“You know it meant nothing, right?” Calum asked. “Like, what happened with you and Harry. It didn’t _mean_ that you wanted to sleep with him, and Ash just like…people get upset, dude. Some people eat or drink or gamble or fuck strangers to forget about their problems for a little while.”

“I know,” Michael nodded. “I get that, honestly. Just when he told me, we were _distracted_ and I think about it sometimes. I mean, it was _two_ people.”

“You’re not going to let this become a _thing,_ right?”

Michael bit down on his bottom lip. “No?”

Calum rolled his eyes. “Ashton is batshit for you, Mikey. The fact he even _told_ you proves that.”

Michael smiled, thinking of all the time they’d spent together since Wednesday. There were so many conversations hidden in the walls of Ashton’s apartment and in the soft sheets of his bed. Michael could still feel Ashton’s touch against his back, or feel their feet tangled together in bed.

“Are you okay?”

Michael looked up, and smiled. “I am,” he nodded. “I’m just me, you know? I overthink.”

“I noticed,” Calum teased.

“But what’s up with you? How’d everything go after last weekend?”

“It’s good,” Calum smiled. “Ruby is so incredible, dude. I swear, she’s a few days away from saying my name, that kid is _good_.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “And Luke?”

“He’s good,” Calum smiled. “Getting ready to go back to school and he’s doing a lot better. More productive, less sitting around in his pajamas. His mum visits too, and they’re trying hard to bridge the gap.”

“That’s good,” Michael smiled. “How are you about the soccer thing?”

Calum shrugged. “I’ve made peace with it, you know? My last game of the season is next week, and I’m ready to be done.”

“Are you ready to be a full time dad?”

“It’s not like that,” Calum said softly. “Luke doesn’t expect me to be her dad. I’m just cool uncle Calum chilling with her until her _actual_ dad gets home from work.”

“Well, are you ready for that?”

Calum shrugged. “It’s what I do most of the time, so it’s not that much of a stretch.”

Michael knew it was a touchy subject, could see it in the way Calum’s mouth turned down slowly at the mention of it, and Michael knew well enough to leave it alone. He knew he hadn’t been successful with romantic relationships, but his friendship was Calum was probably the one thing he was most proud of.

“Hey, you want a beer?”

Calum smiled, and nodded his head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late update, guys! I'm actually really sick with a chest infection at the moment and haven't been on my laptop, so I apologize! I hope this Malum chapter makes up for it!
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading/subscribing and leaving kudos and huge thanks to irwah, Skagger, annaisastupididiot, thominhoplease, chunkysalsa, asickburn0ut, Migs, pizzatrash, dreamforlife, CupidGenie, Clairehatesyou & shutupluke for their comments!
> 
> xoxo


	24. Chapter 24

“Mhm, hey.”

Michael smiled, not hesitating to lean into Ashton’s chest as the older man brushed a soft kiss to his lips. Normally, Michael would’ve shoved him off, insisted that his _parents_ were home, and dragged him down the hall to his room.

But it had been almost twelve hours since he’d last seen Ashton, and he wasn’t willing to sacrifice even a second without kissing him.

“I missed you,” Ashton sighed softly, his arms sliding around Michael’s waist.

His stomach dropped – his _feelings_ surfacing – and he let out a contented little sigh as he buried his face in Ashton’s neck.

The older man chuckled softly, kissing over his temple. “How was your day?”

Michael squeezed him gently before pulling him inside, shutting the door and locking out the warm spring night. “It was good,” he mumbled, nuzzling his throat. “Yours?”

Ashton curled his arm around his waist, disentangling from their embrace. “Long,” he smiled. “Boring.”

“Ashton?”

Michael could feel his cheeks blush bright as his mother hovered on the edge of the moment, a curious, knowing smile on her face.

“Hi, Mrs C,” Ashton greeted politely.

Karen opened her mouth, the _you can call me Karen_ on her lips that she’d probably said a thousand times since they were teenagers, but it always fell on deaf ears, especially with Ashton. He was polite down to the very wire, and Michael kind of loved that about him.

“Are you hungry?” she offered, a half-empty cup of tea in her hands. “We have some leftover roast pork?”

Michael couldn’t help the wide smile on his face as he looked at his mum. She hadn’t questioned him that morning when he arrived back at home, spring in his step and a hickie at the base of his throat. They’d communicated through their eyes, and it probably didn’t take much for her to see the elation on his face.

She patted his arm, kissed his cheek and left for work, and Michael _knew_ that was her stamp of approval.

But this – the _hospitality –_ was something he always knew about his mum, but this just felt _different_. Like she was making such an effort with Ashton because he was important to Michael, and it was all the validation Michael needed, another reminder that this was _right_.

“Thank you,” Ashton smiled politely. “I had a rushed dinner an hour ago, but next time I’ll make it for the actual event.”

Karen smiled. “You’re welcome anytime, you know that.”

Ashton laughed softly. “Thanks.”

“Well boys, I’m off to bed,” she smiled. “It’s almost ten, so I suggest you do the same.”

Michael rolled his eyes, but leant into her arms for a quick hug, and felt his cheeks flush as she did the same to Ashton.

They stood there until she disappeared, until the house settled and they were lost in silence. At least until Ashton let out a soft snort and dissolved into _giggles_.

“Oh my God, she’s so _cute_ ,” Ashton laughed softly, covering his mouth with his hand.

“She likes you,” Michael smiled. “Which makes me like you even more.”

“Oh yeah?” Ashton grinned. “Your mother’s approval is a turn on?”

“Hey, pervert,” Michael snorted. “No one said anything about it being a _turn on_ , it just makes me happy to know she approves. I’ve never had anyone for her to approve of, you know?”

Ashton kissed him softly, squeezing his hip. “Sleep over?”

Michael snorted. “It’s almost ten,” he said, parroting his mother. “I couldn’t in good faith turn you away.”

“Oh?” Ashton murmured, pulling Michael into his arms, his hands roaming over his ass. “So, by not turning me away…”

Michael laughed, wrapping his arms around his neck. “If you’re lucky, mister.” Ashton kissed him, just the gentle brushing of their lips, and Michael still felt goosebumps. “C’mon,” he mumbled. “My room?”

Ashton’s shoulders sagged, as if he was remembering how tired he was. He nodded, letting Michael go in favour of taking his hand so they could head down the hallway.

Michael squeezed his hand, ushering them into his room and shut the door. “Clothes.”

Ashton smiled, raising a brow as his fingers went to the buttons of his light-blue button down, and started to undo them.

“Slower,” Michael teased.

Ashton rolled his eyes, and hurried through the rest of the buttons, sliding his jacket and shirt off, hanging them over the back of Michael’s desk chair.

“Pants?”

Ashton smirked, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoned his skinny jeans and toed off his shoes before sliding down his zipper and peeling the tight denim off.

Michael smiled, crossing the small space between them to kiss over Ashton’s chest, raking his fingers through his light blonde chest hairs.

“I missed you,” Ashton murmured, cupping his shoulders, pulling him in closer. “Is that crazy?”

“No,” Michael murmured. “I missed you too.”

Ashton undressed him slowly, dragging his t-shirt up and off, tugging off his sweatpants. “I want to say it.”

“I know,” Michael said softly, kissing his shoulder. “You tired?”

Ashton nodded, pressing three quick kisses to his neck. “Beat. You?”

“I’m alright,” Michael mumbled. “Could lay with you? Cuddle?”

Ashton cupped his jaw, pressing a slow, deep kiss to his lips, and stole Michael’s breath away. He held onto the other man, letting his tongue meet Ashton’s in a slow, sensual dance. It was the kind of kissing that Michael didn’t realize he loved until Ashton gave it to him, and he knew that there were a lot of things Ashton would show him that he’d never seen before.

“I’m sorry,” Ashton said, pulling away from the kiss, cupping Michael’s jaw in both of his hands. “I’m _sorry_ Mikey, but I love you.”

Michael tried not to cringe, tried not to react to something that should’ve made his heart soar. But the nausea was back, and it wasn’t the good kind and he pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” Ashton said quickly, shaking his head. “Jesus, I really fucked that up.”

“No,” Michael tried to assure him, but the word sounded weak, even to him. “It’s not that I don’t believe it, it’s just…it scares me. Like, if I you feel this way about me, what happens if I stuff it up? What happens if you _hate_ me?”

Ashton’s hands cupped around his jaw again, and kissed him again softly. “I know, but I won’t, you know that right? There’s nothing that could make me hate you, and I’ll try harder not to say it, okay?”

Michael felt guilty; the worst kind because it felt like he was _stifling_ Ashton, telling him that the way he felt was _wrong_.

He pulled away, running his hands through his hair as he sat down on his bed. “Ash…”

“No, c’mon,” Ashton tried, sitting beside him.

“No,” Michael insisted. “I won’t ask you to do that, Ashton. It’s not fair.”

“I don’t care,” Ashton mumbled. “I just want to be with you, and if it means being considerate about this, then I’ll do it. I’m not willing to lose you.”

Michael looked over at him, and could see the desperation in his eyes. “I’m scared.”

Ashton reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’ll be here every step,” he promised. “Jesus, Michael. There’s nowhere else I want to be.”

Michael leant into him, kissing him softly. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up,” Ashton murmured. “I’m not here because I think I can’t do better.”

“Oh, thanks!”

Ashton blushed. “Shit, that’s not how I meant it.”

Michael laughed, wriggling closer to the other man. “You’re not wrong.”

Ashton nuzzled their noses together. “You’re incredible,” he mumbled. “Smart, funny, beautiful. You keep me on my toes.”

“And you’re the same,” Michael said softly, though the words sounded awkward to his ears. “I’m not good at this, but you’re my Calum or whatever. Friends to lovers, and I’m so lucky, Ash.”

“Does that make me Luke?” Ashton murmured, cupping his jaw. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s a good looking dude.”

“He’s got nothing on you,” Michael whispered, kissing him softly.

He felt the anxiety dissipate as the kiss went deeper, Ashton’s tongue pressing into his mouth as they collapsed back into the messy sheets and lost time for a while.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just pure fluff, and after all the shit Mashton have been through, I think they deserve it! 
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading and subscribing and leaving love, and I appreciate all your well wishes! I'm feeling much better! Big thanks to Skagger, annaisastupididiot, chunkysalsa, Migs, thominhoplease, CupidGenie, Wizardofoz & asickburn0ut for their comments!
> 
> xoxo


	25. Chapter 25

“Are you alright?”

Michael knew he’d feel a hell of a lot better if he was holding Ashton’s hand, but it was just too hard. His palm was sweaty and his fingernails were bitten down to the quick, and he knew it was completely irrational to be so afraid of a doctor’s appointment.

But he’d been thinking about it for three days, when Ashton had mentioned on Monday that he’d booked them in to see his GP, so they could get tested for STI’s. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time – and Michael was proud of himself for suggesting they do it – but the panicked side of him was hung up on paranoia.

What if he had something? What if _Ashton_ had something?

They’d been back together almost a week, an in that week, he’d lost count of the amount of sex they’d had. He had never hesitated, never even _thought_ of turning Ashton down when he’d kiss him in that way that always said _hey, do you want to._

But now that they were sitting side by side in a doctor’s office and waiting for a nurse, Michael was convinced they were both horribly infected with a multitude of diseases.

He really needed to get a grip on his anxiety.

“You’re not worried?” Michael whispered softly.

Ashton shrugged. “Not really? I was safe, while we were apart, and I guess I just don’t _feel_ any different.”

“Okay,” Michael huffed out. “But what if _I’m_ infected. What if I have syphilis?”

Ashton snorted, his hand falling to Michael’s thigh, squeezing it reassuringly. “If you had syphilis, we’d have known by now. Wouldn’t you be speaking in tongues?”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Is that all you think syphilis is? You took that _Buffy_ episode too seriously.”

Ashton laughed softly and leant over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Would you _relax_? It’s just a blood test.”

“It’s not _just_ a blood test,” Michael insisted.

Ashton frowned. “What’s got you so spooked? Were you not… _safe_?”

“No,” Michael said softly. “I’ve only ever _not_ been, with you. I mean, he _wanted_ to not be-“ he began, but then the door was opening and a nurse stepped into the room.

Ashton had a strange look on his face, and Michael felt kind of sick about it, and wasn’t sure if he was relieved or annoyed that the nurse had made her entrance at that point. But there was no stopping her, holding two plastic-wrapped trays and a clipboard in her hands.

“Hi, Ashton,” she greeted, sitting down on the small stool in front of a small metal bench. “Don’t forget, you’re due for your flu shot in December.”

Ashton smiled. “Thanks, Amanda. And thanks for seeing us.”

She smiled, her pale lipstick applied perfectly to her lips. She tugged a pair of gloves out of the box on the bench, and put them on.

“This is Michael,” Ashton added, his hand squeezing Michael’s knee. “He’s nervous.”

Michael scowled, looking from Ashton to the nurse and back again. “I’m _fine_.”

Ashton smiled. “He’s worried he’s infected.”

Michael kind of wanted to hit him, because his insecurities were _weird_ and it was bad enough that _Ashton_ knew. Letting other people in on the crazy wasn’t something he was into.

“Everyone feels a little nervous,” she eased, separating the two trays. “You can go first if you’d like?”

Michael appreciated how nice she was being, considering she probably dealt with people like him all the time.

“I’ll go,” Ashton offered, squeezing his knee again. “How hard can it be?”

The nurse – _Amanda –_ ripped open one of the trays, setting three empty vials aside before picking up a hypodermic needle.

“It’s simple,” she explained. “Just a few questions and I’ll take some blood and get you to submit a urine sample. The results will be back in five to seven days, and we’ll get you in to go over them with you.”

Ashton nodded.

“Right,” Amanda smiled, picking up her clipboard. “Sexual orientation?”

“Bisexual,” Ashton answered confidently.

Michael tried not to snicker.

“Number of sexual partners?”

Ashton swallowed. “Like, in total?”

Amanda nodded.

Ashton looked over at Michael for a quick moment, before looking back at the nurse. Michael could tell he was doing some quick math in his head.

“Twelve.”

“ _Twelve_?” Michael asked in disbelief. “How many of them were guys?!”

Ashton cleared his throat, a frown creasing on his forehead. “It’s probably not the best time or place to have this conversation.”

“I mean, just _twelve_? I thought like, six at most.”

“Thanks,” Ashton intoned dryly.

Amanda cleared her throat. “What are your sexual practices?”

Michael folded his arms over his chest, raising a brow as he waited for the answer.

“We should’ve done this separately,” Ashton said uncomfortably.

“When’s the last time you slept with someone else?” Michael asked. “I know when we were apart, but _when_ , specifically?”

“Michael,” Ashton sighed. “C’mon, can we please not do this?”

“You’re more than welcome to wait outside,” Amanda offered.

Michael felt a little sick. He knew he had no right to question Ashton like this – in front of a _nurse_ , no less – but his insecurities were rearing their ugly heads.

Ashton turned his attention back towards Amanda. “Look, just, what do you _mean_?”

Amanda smiled. “Vaginal, anal.”

“Oh,” Ashton mumbled. “Both, obviously. I’m bisexual.”

“I know,” Amanda said, jotting his answer down on the clipboard. “I’m required to ask.”

Michael felt insurmountably guilty as Ashton shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the hand he’d had on Michael’s knee now gripping his own.

“Do you have any symptoms of illness?”

“No.”

“Have you ever injected drugs?”

“No.”

“Any tattoos or piercings?”

Ashton’s fingers almost immediately traced over the tally mark tattoo on his right wrist. Michael could remember their short-lived plans of their band, and how excited Ashton had been to get a tattoo.

 _Four lines for us, and one to bind us together_.

Michael wanted to kiss him.

He stayed quiet though, as Amanda set the clipboard aside and picked up the needle and empty vials, silence settling over the room as she quickly took his blood, labelling the vials before setting them aside and changing her gloves.

Michael could feel Ashton’s eyes on him as Amanda slid towards him on her stool, clipboard in hand once more.

“I’ll make it quick,” Michael offered. “Gay, six, anal, no, no and yeah, some tattoos and an eyebrow piercing when I was sixteen.”

Amanda raised her eyebrows and quickly jotted his answers down, and that’s when Michael chanced a look at Ashton.

He had a little dot band aid on the inside of his right arm, his fingers pressing against it like Amanda had told him to once she’d taken his blood. His eyes were warm as always, but looking at Michael with an expression the other man couldn’t read.

They were silent as she took his blood, before setting two sample cups on the metal bench, and told them they could give their urine sample in the small bathroom down the hall. She took their blood and left, and the room was engulfed in tension.

Michael knew he had to say something first. He was the one in the wrong, and if he was going to make this work with Ashton, he _had_ to grow the fuck up.

“Look,” he began, letting out a sigh. “I was… _wrong_. I shouldn’t have…well, embarrassed you like that.”

Ashton was quiet for a long moment, and Michael was worried he was going to get dumped.

“Ash,” he tried again, his fingertips pressed against the cotton ball on the inside of his arm.

Ashton reached over to pick up a dot band aid from the metal bench, unwrapping it from the packaging and guided the cotton away from Michael’s skin, and replaced it with the band aid.

“I didn’t know it was a thing,” he finally said.

“What?” Michael asked.

“Me sleeping with people when we were apart,” he said quietly. “I thought we…I didn’t think it’d come up again. Like, are you holding it against me?”

“What? No,” Michael said softly. “No, I don’t, and I know that’s how it came out, but it’s not what I meant to say. I just get…crazy when I think about you with other people.”

“And you think I don’t feel the same way? At least you don’t know the people I slept with. I know _exactly_ who you slept with, because I laid eyes on him only a few hours after.”

The words were said with venom, and Michael’s shoulders slumped as he felt the guilt slam into him, _again._

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Ashton sighed. “No, _I’m_ sorry. We decided that it didn’t matter, okay? That we made mistakes.”

“I know,” Michael said softly. “I thought that was enough, that if I ignored it, it wouldn’t bother me.”

“But it does?”

“No? I don’t know,” Michael admitted with a sigh. “I realize I have absolutely _no_ right to be upset with you because it was my fault we weren’t together then, but I just feel sick at the idea of you with someone else.”

A small smile played on Ashton’s lips. “You’re jealous?”

Michael groaned. “Is that what this is?” he asked with a sigh. “I’m sick of all these fucking emotions that come when you like someone.”

Ashton’s smile didn’t falter as he leant in and kissed him softly. “We can talk about it, okay?” he offered, peppering kisses to the corner of Michael’s mouth. “If you want to know, I’ll tell you.”

Michael grunted and nodded his head before sliding an arm around Ashton’s shoulders. “I’m still sorry.”

“Sorry, I forgot to ask-“

They both jumped as Amanda pushed back into the room, clipboard in hand, and Michael blushed.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “There’s just another question I had to ask.”

“Yeah,” Ashton nodded his head, reaching for Michael’s hand and laced their fingers together.

She smiled apologetically. “When was the last time you both had unprotected sex?”

**

“Okay, so let’s talk about it.”

Michael smiled, feeling calm and loose – that was the beer, he was sure – and he wriggled closer to Ashton.

They were sitting cross-legged on Michael’s bed, a few empty Corona bottles littered on the bedside table, and empty Thai take out containers on the floor. The house was blissfully quiet – Michael had never been happier that it was it his parent’s wedding anniversary – and after their day of awkwardness, he was happy to be where he was most comfortable.

He uncrossed his legs, and hooked them over Ashton’s thighs, his hands settling on the older man’s shoulders. “Okay,” he smiled, looking down for a second. “Who were they?”

Ashton took a sip from his beer. “The first guy was Josh. We went on a few dates last year but it didn’t really go anywhere. I ran into him at a work thing, and we got really, _really_ drunk. It happened two weeks after we…split.”

Michael nodded, biting at his bottom lip. “Was it…good?”

Ashton shrugged. “I was drunk and sad about you. It was sad sex, that’s it.”

Michael nodded again. “Okay, next?”

“I don’t really remember his name,” Ashton admitted with a sigh. “I’m not proud of it – _any_ of it – and I knew the moment we were done that it wasn’t right. It wasn’t good sex, either.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael sighed. “For asking, I know it’s not a good thing that happened.”

“It’s fine,” Ashton assured him, rubbing his thighs. “I just hope knowing helps, not makes it worse.”

Michael shrugged. “Nothing is worse than my imagination.”

Ashton smiled, reaching up to cup his jaw. “Tell me about it. I think about you and Harry.”

“God,” Michael sighed. “It was horrible,” he murmured. “I knew, before, during and after that it was wrong and I was so upset.”

“You said he didn’t want to be safe?” Ashton prompted softly.

Michael’s stomach fell. He knew he couldn’t refuse Ashton’s questions, because they’d both decided to be honest and talk about what happened. But he was terrified to tell the other man how he’d shown up at Harry’s hotel room after the soccer match, that he’d _thrown_ himself at the Brit to make himself forget.

“Michael, did he try and _force_ you?” Ashton asked quietly.

“What?” Michael asked, his eyebrows going up in surprise. “ _No_ , Ash. Jesus, of course not.” He cupped Ashton’s jaw and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “He just suggested it, and I refused. I refused to sleep with him completely.”

Ashton let out a slow breath, relief obvious in his eyes. “I thought that maybe he had,” he explained. “Like…”

“No,” Michael said softly. “God, if he had tried, I would’ve killed him.”

“Me too,” Ashton confessed softly, kissing over his lips again. “So are we okay about this?”

Michael nodded. “Yeah, thank you. For telling me.”

“S’okay,” Ashton mumbled. “What happened before you doesn’t even matter anymore, Mikey. And for your information, the _twelve_ people I’ve slept with since I was sixteen was an even six-six split. Six guys, six girls, but it’s been about eight years since I dated a woman.”

“Oh,” Michael said softly. “I thought that maybe you preferred women.”

“I prefer you,” Ashton smiled. “I know the bisexual thing bothers you, okay?”

Michael shrugged noncommittally. “I’ve never been with someone bisexual.”

“Bisexual means _both_ ,” Ashton reminded him softly. “But it doesn’t mean that I’m going to get tired of being with a guy, and go back to being with a girl.”

“You might.”

Ashton laughed, tugging him closer by his legs. “Shut up, idiot,” he said affectionately. “I want to be with you. Now, tomorrow…for a while,” he smiled.

Michael smiled back, and leant in to kiss him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this new chapter! Michael is adulting so much lately! 
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading/subscribing and leaving kudos and huge thanks to thominhoplease, Skagger, pizzatrash, annaisastupididiot, chunkysalsa, dreamforlife, CupidGenie & asickburn0ut for their comments!
> 
> xoxo


	26. Chapter 26

“Shit,” Michael groaned, blinking his eyes heavily as the sheets were lifted off of him and the bed dipped beside him.

“Hi, sorry,” Ashton whispered, sliding in behind him, curling around Michael’s back.

Michael grunted – Ashton’s feet were _cold_ , dammit – and he tugged the sheets back over him. “What’re you doing here?” he mumbled.

Ashton pressed soft kisses to the back of his neck and his shoulder, sliding his palm over the soft t-shirt covering Michael’s tummy. “I missed you,” he whispered, snuggling closer.

Michael rolled his eyes, letting his head fall back down onto his pillow. “I saw you yesterday.”

Ashton laughed softly, tangling their legs together. “Yeah, and it was when I was running late and rushing out the door. So forgive me for wanting to _see_ you.”

Michael smiled, letting his eyes fall shut. “You’re not getting laid, I’m exhausted.”

Ashton let out a small huff, pinching Michael’s stomach gently. “You do realize I’m not dating you just so we can fuck,” he hissed. “I actually enjoy your company for some strange reason.”

Michael blinked his eyes open and rolled over in Ashton’s arms, his t-shirt rucking up his torso. “Don’t be all pissy,” he whispered into the dark between them. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Hm,” Ashton huffed.

Michael grinned. “You used your key.”

Michael could remember watching the exchange – and being positive that he was excluded from it for a reason – and watched as Ashton stuttered out words as his mum had given him a key. _It makes sense,_ she’d said. _You’re here at odd hours, and sometimes we’re asleep. Plus, I’d prefer you inside and not on the porch so late._

It had warmed his heart completely, and he’d almost tackle-hugged his mum the moment Ashton had put the key in his pocket. While the idea of key exchanging made him feel sick, he was almost relieved that his mum had taken the emotional bullet for him, because he was still emotionally slow, and he feared the moment that Ashton would offer his key up again, and they’d have to have the awkward conversation about Michael not being _ready_ , and not really knowing what it _meant._

“No, I broke in through the bathroom window,” Ashton responded sarcastically, his hand sliding up under Michael’s shirt, stroking over his back.

“Oh shut up,” Michael whispered. “How was the game?”

Calum had called earlier in the week to invite Michael to his last game of the season. It hadn’t sat well with Michael, because Calum’s _last game_ was a bullshit last game, because he should be on a _plane_ the following week, and instead, he was giving it all away.

So he’d told Calum he had to work – which wasn’t a _lie_ ; Ashton had been a huge distraction and he really was behind on his graphic novel – and Calum had taken his excuse and not questioned him, although Michael knew he thought it was bullshit.

Ashton had decided to go, and Michael really did promise himself to get some work done, and he had. There were a few fresh pages to go to his editor, and he’d already done a rough outline for the next few issues. He supposed he could see _some_ good in spending time away from Ashton.

“It was good,” Ashton whispered back, hooking some of Michael’s dark hair behind his ear. “They won, and Calum was a god, you’d have been proud.”

Michael had battled with himself when he thought about telling Ashton that Calum _had_ been picked to play abroad, but had turned it down. It was something Calum had told him in the utmost confidence, and while Michael didn’t consider himself a tattletale, he wasn’t sure how secrets worked when you were dating someone.

He decided in the end to not say anything. He wasn’t sure how Ashton would react, if he’d tell Luke, and Michael didn’t want to be responsible for opening a can of worms that could affect _everyone_.

“Did you at least get some work done?” Ashton asked, pressing a kiss to his nose.

Michael scrunched his nose and pretended not to like it. “Yeah,” he answered. “Turns out you’re a huge distraction.”

Ashton grinned, wriggling closer and moving his hand up higher on Michael’s back. “Well I’m here now, and plan on being distracting again.”

Michael kissed him gently, his hand sliding over Ashton’s bare back slowly. “Welcome back,” he whispered.

Ashton groaned. “Thought you were tired?”

Michael grinned, kissing down Ashton’s throat. “I’m full of shit, you should know that by now.”

“Maybe I’m tired,” Ashton sighed.

Michael nuzzled into his throat, trying to pull him in closer. “We should do something fun tomorrow.”

“We should?” Ashton asked. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a few days? I’ve got a work thing on Tuesday night I’d love to take you to.”

“Yeah?” Michael whispered.

The idea was equal parts thrilling as it was exciting, and he wasn’t sure which emotion to go with.

“Nothing too huge, just a dinner to celebrate the end of a recording cycle with a band. Did I tell you I’m going to be in the liner notes for their album?”

“Yeah?” Michael grinned. “That’s amazing. You deserve it.”

Ashton smiled, running his hand down Michael’s back. “I’d love to take you into the studio sometime, show you around.”

“You do?”

Ashton pulled back some, smiling over at Michael in the dark. “Course,” he insisted softly. “That’s what people do in relationships.”

“Oh.”

Michael felt a little stupid for not realizing, because it _did_ make sense. But it was his first time – and he wasn’t really good at this shit anyway – and he felt _special_ knowing that Ashton wanted him in every aspect of his life.

“Do I like, come down when you’re working and bring you lunch and coffee?”

Ashton smiled. “Sometime, yeah, if you want.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael smiled. “I know as much about relationships as I do about learning French.”

Ashton kissed him, his hand moving to squeeze Michael’s hip. “Don’t apologize. I feel kind of special that I’m the one you want to do this with.”

“You _are_ special,” Michael insisted softly. “Not, _eating glue_ special, but the real kind. Calum did tell me you’d be the perfect guy to do this with.”

“Well, Calum’s a genius,” Ashton smiled. “And I don’t care if you want to go slow, okay? I want this to work.”

Michael still wasn’t quite sure _why_ Ashton cared about him the way he did. It wasn’t self-deprecating, he was just genuinely confused, but there was something about it that made him feel warm.

Ashton could have anyone, he knew that.

But he’d picked Michael.

And he was starting to see – _slowly_ – that maybe he was worth it after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flufffffffffffff! I can't get enough of fluffy Mashton! These two are so easy to write!
> 
> Thank you to everyone taking the time to read, subscribe or leave kudos, it's very much appreciated! Big thanks to irwah, Skagger, asickburn0ut, chunkysalsa, Migs, annaisastupididiot, CupidGenie & StardustFlames for their comments!
> 
> xoxo


	27. Chapter 27

Michael wasn’t sure what woke him so early, but he guessed the empty bed beside him was enough of a reason. It was just after seven, and Michael wondered if Ashton was in the kitchen having coffee with his mum, and just what they could be talking about.

Horrific embarrassing stories of his childhood, Michael thought, and he crawled out of bed to investigate.

He didn’t make it to the kitchen before passing his man cave, to see Ashton passed out asleep on the couch. Michael frowned and tiptoed in, sitting down on the space near Ashton’s knees, and pressed his hand to the man’s bare chest.

“Ash?”

Ashton’s eyes fluttered and open, looking up at Michael in confusion. “Yeah?”

Michael smiled. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

Ashton lifted his head and looked around the room, letting out a sigh. “I got up to pee,” he explained. “I had a few work emails so I came in here to answer them so I wouldn’t wake you up. I guess I fell asleep.”

Michael leant down and kissed him gently. “You’re so cute, you know that?”

Ashton chuckled, cupping his jaw gently. “Thanks?”

“Come back to bed,” Michael eased, sliding his hand up Ashton’s thigh.

Ashton groaned. “Yeah,” he agreed, nodding quickly as he sat up. “Definitely.”

Michael was leaning in to kiss him again when he heard it – the soft knock at the front door. He looked at Ashton, whose brow was furrowed as he heard it too, and Michael could feel his stomach tie in knots.

“I’m gonna,” he said, and Ashton nodded.

Michael left the man cave, and felt a strange sense of foreboding as he padded to the front door, unlocking the dead bolt before tugging it open.

“Luke?”

Luke stood there, Ruby in his arms and baby bag hanging off his shoulder, and he looked like _shit_. Like he’d maybe had a total of ten minutes sleep the night before, bags under his eyes and his shoulders slumped like they had been the day he’d shown up on Michael’s doorstep when Ben and Sarah had died.

Michael immediately worried that something terrible had happened – possibly to _Calum_ – and he let Luke in without a word, leading him to the man cave, because Ashton would know what to say.

Ashton’s eyes were shut but as they entered the room they opened, and his brows went up in surprise. “Luke, hey.”

Luke sat down on the couch, Ruby on his knee and looked at his feet.

Michael’s eyes found Ashton’s and they shared a bewildered look, Ashton the first to make a move to sit up, and to ease Ruby off Luke’s lap to give her a cuddle.

“Everything okay, man?” Ashton asked softly.

Luke swallowed. “Calum and I broke up.”

“What?” Michael asked in confusion, his brow furrowed.

He tried to pick apart the words, to try and see if he could find a reason, but he was coming up blank.

_Calum and I broke up._

That didn’t sound like it was mutual, it didn’t sound like someone was at fault. He realized he was too far into his own thoughts, and he was missing out on what Luke was saying.

“…and it turns out he _was_ accepted, and he turned it down.”

“What?” Ashton breathed softly, his mouth hanging open in shock.

Michael shifted uncomfortably, wondering when it would be a good time to let on that he _knew_. Knew all of it, could have possibly _contributed_ to it.

“He…he doesn’t want to be Ruby’s dad,” Luke whispered, his shoulders pinched tightly together.

“Oh Luke,” Ashton whispered, leaning over to cup his hand around the back of his neck, and pulled him in against his chest.

Michael felt helpless, fingers wedged between his closed knees while Ashton picked up the pieces of Luke’s broken heart.

“God, I’m exhausted,” Luke sighed into his chest.

“How about I put on coffee?” Ashton suggested, pressing a soft kiss to his temple before passing the baby over to Michael.

Michael almost fumbled, finding that Ruby was a little chunkier than the last time he’d held her, so the panicked fear of _dropping her_ was lessened. She was actually kind of cute, sucking on her thumb as her big blue eyes looked up at him.

“You knew.”

Michael looked up from Ruby to look at Luke, noticing Ashton had disappeared. He felt a little sick, like maybe him _knowing_ had caused all this in the first place.

“ _Thank you_ , Mikey,” Luke whispered, leaning in to press his forehead against Michael’s shoulder.

Michael didn’t know what to say, but watched as Ruby grabbed at Luke’s hair, tugging at it before sticking her little fingers into his ear.

He batted her away gently and she giggled, fingers poking at his neck.

“W-why?” Michael asked. “Why are you thanking me?”

“You did what I would’ve done,” Luke mumbled, lifting his head and moved away from Ruby’s prodding fingers. “You encouraged him to do it, like I would’ve. Except, he never gave me the chance.”

“Oh,” Michael said softly. “It’s not…I really don’t think it was like that, Luke. I think he just wanted to put you two first and-“

“It’s okay,” Luke interrupted softly, squeezing his knee. “You don’t have to make excuses.”

“I’m not,” Michael mumbled. “I can just, see it from his perspective, I guess.”

Luke sighed, his shoulders sagging tiredly as Ashton made his way back into the room, three mugs and a sugar bowl on a small tray.

“I wish I knew what to say,” Ashton admitted, handing Luke a mug as he sat down beside Michael. “Luke, I’m-“

“Don’t be,” Luke nodded, stirring two sugars into the mug in his hand.

Ashton shared a look with Michael, before his hand rested on Luke’s knee. “It’s okay to be upset.”

Michael knew he had to say something, sitting Ruby on the couch beside Luke as he reached into the baby bag for a banana, peeling it and offering her a tiny piece.

“I’m sorry,” Michael finally said, his voice quiet and clearly uncomfortable.

Luke shrugged, sitting back in his seat. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No,” Michael sighed. “I knew he was going to turn down the soccer thing and I got really mad at him for it. If that’s what led to this…”

Michael could feel Ashton’s eyes on him, and when he looked over at him, his hazel eyes were almost stormy with confusion.

“It didn’t,” Luke said quietly in response to Michael’s comment. “It was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Ashton’s teeth closed over his bottom lip, and Michael knew he had questions to answer, and he was momentarily worried that this issue – this _thing_ – would turn into something negative for him and Ashton.

“I don’t get it,” the older man finally said, reaching out to squeeze Michael’s knee. “Him and Ruby just fit.”

Luke bit as his lip ring, his fingers smoothing out the bunched denim at his knee. “I expected too much,” he whispered. “I just assumed he’d be her dad, and I never asked if he was okay.”

“I just can’t believe you broke up,” Michael mumbled, feeling sick with the guilt.

He’d _known_ Calum wasn’t ready to be a dad. He had tried to encourage him to talk to Luke about it, but he’d known Calum wouldn’t. How could he? How could he say the words to someone who had lost everything?

 “He never said anything to you about it?” Michael asked.

“No, and that was the problem,” Luke muttered bitterly. “He just buried all of it, and never gave me a chance to fix it.”

“It’s his problem,” Ashton pointed out flatly. “He should’ve said something.”

Michael frowned, and could feel his protectiveness settle inside him. “In his defence,” he began, “it’s not really something you can discuss over a cup of coffee.”

“ _Still_ ,” Ashton pointed out. “He stayed even when he knew he didn’t want to. He led Ruby on, _and_ Luke.”

Michael’s frown deepened. “Cut the guy a break. It’s been rough on everyone and just because he didn’t know how to say the words, doesn’t make him a piece of shit.”

“I never said that,” Ashton snapped. “I’m saying it’s fucking selfish, because now there is a _kid_ involved, and that’s something you can’t be blasé about.”

Michael opened his mouth to respond – to defend Calum to the ends of the _earth_ , if he had to – but Luke stopped him.

“Guys,” he said tiredly. “The last thing I want you is for you two to fight about this.”

Michael bit down on his lip for a moment, looking over at him. “I’m just saying, he’s done the wrong thing, but he’s not the devil.”

“I know,” Luke said softly, handing Ruby another piece of banana when she held her hand out for more. “And none of what happened last night has made me love him any less. I think that if it did, it wouldn’t hurt this bad.”

Ashton reached over Michael to squeeze his knee. “What are you going to do?”

Luke sighed. “Push work back, I guess. He was my babysitter.”

“You can’t,” Michael stressed softly. “Don’t take two steps back. I can watch her.”

The offer came from nowhere, and as soon as the words escaped, he wanted to shove them back into his mouth. He was in no way capable to look after a _baby_.

It made Luke smile, though. “That’s incredibly generous, but I honestly think it would drive you crazy.”

Michael returned the smile. “Probably,” he nodded. “But I don’t want you to put it off again.”

“I’ll talk to mum,” Luke sighed. “I’ll do my best.”

Ashton leant over Michael to hug Luke awkwardly, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Luke.”

Michael watched him close his eyes, watched the emotion take him over before he reined it in. His eyes opened, and he sighed, curling his arm around Ashton’s shoulder.

“I can come stay with you,” Ashton offered him as he released him. “Help you out a little with Ruby.”

His gaze went to Ruby, and he sighed. “What if I can’t do it without him?”

Michael tuned Luke out, feeling his chest ache at the sadness of the situation. He thought of Calum, no doubt feeling at his absolute worst, and Michael had _forgotten_ him. He was lost in Luke, in his pain and the terror of being alone, that he hadn’t stopped to think of Calum, having just broken up with his boyfriend and was about to leave the _country_ without Luke and Ruby.

He was in the conversation but not paying attention, wanting to duck out of the room to call Calum. It was how it had been from the beginning; Luke and Ashton, and Michael and Calum. They just _fit_ together, and Michael was sometimes surprised that he hadn’t ended up with his best friend.

By the time Luke left, Michael was almost catatonic, sitting on the couch as Ashton let him out, and when the older man came back, Michael was drumming his fingers on his knee.

“So, you knew?”

Michael looked up. “Does that make you hate me?”

Ashton smiled, sitting down next to him, pulling him in. “No, stupid. I don’t tell you things that Luke and I talk about.”

“I knew about him being scared about Ruby,” he whispered. “I tried to get him to talk to Luke about it, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Hey, this isn’t your fault,” Ashton murmured, kissing his forehead. “You did all you could.”

Michael sighed, burying his face in Ashton’s chest, and thought, _did I?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the happy times couldn't last forever, and it's time to add some Luke/Calum drama back into the mix! I love sharing the other side with everyone, and I hope you all like it!
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading, subscribing and leaving kudos, and huge thanks to milecgv, KellyWoods, annaisastupididiot, Migs, asickburn0ut, chunkysalsa, Skagger & CupidGenie for their comments!
> 
> xoxo


	28. Chapter 28

Michael bit down on his bottom lip, squeezing the fingers laced with his own. They hadn’t said anything since Calum’s laboured, shaky breath had evened out, and there was a part of Michael that thought maybe he’d fallen asleep.

He’d been a mess when he’d showed up sometime after six, gripping the doorframe of Michael’s house so tightly his nails dug into the wood. He was pale and gasping for breath with tears running down his cheeks, and the panic that he was possibly _dying_ had Michael almost catching him as he stumbled over the door way and into the house.

They’d ended up on his bed, like always, and Michael hadn’t been able to utter a word to soothe his best friend, but Calum hadn’t needed it. He’d curled up as tightly as he could in Michael’s arms, head tucked in against his chest as his tears stained Michael’s t-shirt.

Their hands had joined tightly together as they lay there, and Michael’s free hand stroked from Calum’s hair and down his back and he could almost _feel_ the heavy burden of Calum’s emotions slowly drift away the longer they stayed curled together.

“Stay here tonight,” Michael whispered into the stillness, pressing his lips against Calum’s forehead.

He nodded, nuzzling his face further into Michael’s chest.

Michael sighed, letting his eyes fall shut as he rubbed his hand over his back again, and tried to think of the right words to say. Because he’d _have_ to say something at some point; that was what he’d signed up for when committing himself to Calum as _best friends for life_. He just didn’t think he’d have to say _so much_.

Ever since Luke had left that morning, Michael had been trying to reach Calum. His calls went unanswered, even as Ashton got dressed and had to disappear into work for a few hours, and Michael felt positively _sick_ as he reached call fourteen, and Calum hadn’t answered.

He was tempted to just get in the car and _drive_ , to see if he was at home with his parents, or still at Luke’s place. He couldn’t just _sit_ there, and he’d been on the edge of doing just that; getting up and calling Joy or Luke or _someone_ to find his best friend, when his phone had rung.

Calum had been almost unresponsive, using grunts and one word answers to convey his emotions. Michael had spoken softly, told him how much he was loved, and just how _sorry_ he was.

The conversation hadn’t eased Michael’s anxiety at all, and he’d spent the rest of his day unable to concentrate. But the moment he’d seen Calum at his front door, there had been something inside of him that shifted into the _my best friend is back where he should be_ scenario, and Michael was finally able to _breathe_.

He wrapped his arm tighter around Calum, curling against him closely as his breathing evened out and it all felt like it would maybe be okay.

They lay like that for what felt like forever, until Michael was sure Calum was asleep and was able to find reprieve from the emotional trauma. He was close to drifting off himself when the softest of knocks sounded at the door.

“Come in,” he whispered softly, unsure if the person on the other side of the door could even _hear_ him, but the doorknob twisted and the door was pushed open.

Ashton stood there, a soft, sympathetic smile on his face as he saw the two men on the bed, and he crept into the room.

“Hey,” Michael whispered.

“Hi,” Ashton said softly. He made his way to the bed, bending down to press a soft kiss to Michael’s lips. “He okay?”

Michael shook his head, reaching out to touch Ashton’s hand, keeping him there. “We haven’t talked yet.”

Ashton nodded, fingers curling around Michael’s wrist. “He staying?”

“Yeah,” Michael whispered. “I don’t think Joy and Dave know.”

“Shit,” Ashton sighed. “This is so fucked up.”

Michael agreed completely, knowing that no matter what happened when Calum next opened his eyes, everything was different. He was _leaving_ on Monday, Michael was sure of it. And he didn’t know what that would mean for their friendship, and he knew it was selfish to worry about that over everything else, but Michael never really functioned well without Calum.

“Can I stay tonight?”

Michael smiled. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Just maybe…couch?”

Ashton leant down and pressed another soft kiss to Michael’s lips. “I’d rather be in here,” he mumbled. “Just…with you and him.”

Michael smiled, pressing their lips together again. “Bed’s not big enough for three.”

Ashton smiled. “I’ll take the floor.”

Michael smiled and released him, checking on Calum who was still asleep against his chest, fingers curled in the fabric of Michael’s old AC/DC shirt, the fabric still a little damp from his tears.

Ashton was quiet as he disappeared out of Michael’s bedroom, returning a few moments later with all the couch cushions from the man cave and a sheet and blanket tucked under his arm.

Michael had to press his lips together to keep from laughing as Ashton arranged the cushions on the floor into what looked like a really comfortable bed. He spread the dark blue sheet out on top, tucking it around the cushions before spreading out the blanket on top, looking entirely too pleased with his efforts.

There was such a deep fondness that settled over Michael suddenly, watching the older man ease his boots off, and slowly stripped off his jacket, jeans and button down shirt, helping himself to a clean t-shirt of Michael’s that sat ignored in a washing basket.

“You’re great,” Michael whispered softly, the words sounding loud to his ears.

Ashton paused for a moment, before pulling the faded grey t-shirt over his head, and a slow smile curled onto his face.

“I just mean,” Michael whispered. “You’re here and you’re sacrificing sleep to be with me – _us_ – and it’s just…you’re really easy to like, Ash.”

Ashton smiled. “Thanks?”

“It’s a compliment,” Michael assured him. “It’s a good thing.”

The smile on Ashton’s face didn’t waver as he crossed the small space to press another kiss to Michael’s lips. “Is that your way of saying the _L_ word?”

“Shut up,” Michael whispered, raking his fingers through Ashton’s curls as his cheeks flushed.

“It’s really easy to like you, too.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, are you two serious?”

Michael _jumped_ , barely managing to hold in a high pitched squeak as Calum stirred suddenly, rolling away from Michael onto his back, stretching slowly.

Ashton laughed softly. “Sorry?”

Calum managed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, running his hand through his messy hair. “S’fine,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry I’m in the way.”

“You’re not,” Michael insisted, his hand finding its way to Calum’s hip. “I want you to stay.”

“I should take the floor,” Calum said around a yawn.

“You can’t, it’s already taken,” Ashton insisted, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Calum sighed. “I’m the third wheel.”

“Well, technically Ash is,” Michael pointed out. “We were cuddling quite contently before he showed up.”

“Oh thanks,” Ashton said flatly, rolling his eyes.

“I should go,” Calum said uneasily, sitting up slowly.

“No,” Michael insisted quickly. “Please stay, okay? Please?”

Calum sighed, looking between them as if he was looking for any indication that he wasn’t welcome.

Michael smiled, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Ashton do the same.

Calum groaned. “Fine, okay? I’ll stay.”

“Do you want to talk?” Ashton offered.

“Honestly?” Calum asked, his shoulders slumping. “Not really. Not now. I-I saw Luke this afternoon and packed up my stuff and it was just…there is _nothing_ about _any_ of this that feels right.”

Michael shared a look with Ashton, and reached for Calum’s hand again. “C’mon, cuddle?”

Calum looked over at him and nodded, burrowing back in against Michael’s side. “Sorry, Ash,” he mumbled from where his words were muffled against Michael’s throat.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Ashton sighed. “I cuddle him all the time. It’ll be nice to have a break.”

Michael swatted at him playfully, wrapping his arms around Calum again. “For that, you can sleep on the floor.”

“Oooh,” Ashton teased, poking his tongue out. “Such a hard taskmaster.”

Michael ached to press another kiss to his lips, because now that Ashton was _there_ , he was reminded how much he’d missed him. But with Calum wriggling closer, his fingers tugging him in, and he knew he couldn’t very well pull Ashton in and kiss the hell out of him.

Ashton seemed to understand, his hand squeezing Michael’s knee gently before sliding off the bed, going to sit down on his makeshift mattress.

“I’m exhausted,” Calum mumbled into Michael’s neck.

It was barely eight o’clock, but the moment Calum said the words, Michael could feel his own weariness settle in his bones. It had been a long day after a disrupted night, and the idea of _sleep_ sounded like heaven.

He reached over to turn out the lamp and the room was swathed in darkness. For a small stretch of time, the only sound was their combined breathing, and Ashton tossing and turning on the floor.

Michael’s eyes were closed, his body turned into Calum – who felt _nothing_ like Ashton and it made him _sad_ – and settled in for sleep. He was almost there when he heard Calum speak, and for a second he wasn’t sure if it was real or imagined, until Calum’s fingers dug into his ribs.

“He’s so sad,” he whispered.

Michael could feel the sadness sink inside of him, remembering the Luke he’d found on his doorstep that morning, and the version of Calum that had been broken on his own arrival.

“I did that to him.”

“You love him,” Michael whispered softly. “I know you do, Cal, and I know how hard this must be. But you _deserve_ this.”

“I’m not even thinking about Brazil,” Calum admitted. “I’m thinking about _him_ , and saying goodbye to Ruby and not waking up beside him anymore. How’d this happen, Michael? I’m _so_ in love with him but we broke up.”

Michael felt almost panicked, hoping that Ashton would step in and say what needed to be said, because he always _knew_ what to do in situations like this. But the silence stretched on and Michael knew he had to step up.

“You never could’ve imagined that Ben and Sarah would die,” he whispered. “That Luke would end up raising Ruby and your lives would change. But it happened and it’s not fair, and you’re doing what you can to survive. This doesn’t mean it has to be over for you and Luke. Do this Brazil thing and keep in touch and things might change.”

“I can’t leave him,” Calum whispered. “I’m supposed to go over there tomorrow night and say goodbye and all I want to do is kiss him and tell him I won’t go.”

Michael carded his fingers through Calum’s curls. “So you go and kiss him, and you tell him you love him and make sure he knows it, okay? Don’t hesitate to tell him all the things you want to say, because this is _it_ , Cal.”

“Jesus,” Calum whispered, his breath shaky. “I wish I was never picked.”

“No, you don’t,” Michael told him. “I know it feels like that right now, but this is good for you.”

“He’s got a baby.”

“And you’re not ready,” Michael said delicately, his arm curling around Calum’s waist in the dark. “And that’s okay, alright? But like you’ve said, this isn’t what either of you picked, and all you can do is your best. It’s _okay_ that you’re not ready to be a dad, Calum.”

The other man let out a stuttered breath, gripping Michael tightly. “Thank you,” he whispered. “You always make it… _okay_ to not be okay.”

Michael pressed soft kisses to Calum’s temple as he felt tears hit the skin of his neck. There were no words left to say, and Michael wasn’t sure if the words he had said did much good, but Calum clung tightly to him, shedding a few more tears before his breath evened out and he dropped off to sleep.

Michael eased out a sigh of relief, letting his eyes fall shut again. He was almost on the edge of sleep when Ashton spoke, and his eyes flew open.

“I love you, Michael Clifford.”

The emotion choked him, his throat tight as he wished he could press a kiss to Ashton’s lips, and say the words right back.

**

The next morning, Michael woke up with a headache.

He was alone in his bed, the room silent and as he lifted his head off his pillow to look around, he noticed Ashton wasn’t on his makeshift bed either. He was tempted to drop back down onto his pillow for a few more hours of sleep, but he felt a little sick to his stomach.

He groaned, shoving the sheets off of his legs and swung them over the edge of his bed. He noticed Calum’s shoes were still on the floor, kicked off carelessly the night before.

Michael stood and lurched across his bedroom to the door, and headed down to the hall to pee. The house seemed quiet, and he was completely disoriented when it came to the time. After washing his hands he wandered out into the kitchen, seeing Calum’s silhouette out on the back patio.

Michael took the time to make them both a cup of coffee, yawning and blinking sleepily at the clock on the microwave to see it was almost nine. He figured his parents were off doing whatever they did on a Sunday, and he could vaguely remember Ashton mentioning the day before that he was taking Harry to a movie.

He yawned again, stirring sugar and milk into the mugs before heading to the partially opened screen door, nudging it open with his foot before stepping outside.

Calum was sitting on the padded bench seat, the fabric faded from years in the sun. He was wearing one of Michael’s t-shirts and his boxer shorts, and the ashtray in front of him was almost full of half-smoked cigarette butts. He had the filter of one between his teeth, clicking down on his lighter to ignite it as Michael sat down beside him.

“Morning,” he mumbled.

Michael grunted, setting the mugs down on the coffee table, before slouching down in his seat.

“Ash said to tell you he’d see you later,” Calum mumbled around his cigarette, inhaling the nicotine sharply.

“Mhm,” Michael mumbled, his eyes blinking heavily.

“Still not a morning person, hey?”

Michael rolled his eyes, reaching forward to pick up his coffee, holding the cup close to his face, inhaling the bitter aroma.

Calum fell silent, smoking his cigarette down slowly, letting the smoke curl out from behind his lips before blowing it away. 

It was the time Michael needed to wake up – though he wasn’t exactly bright eyed just yet – and he sighed.

“How are you?”

Calum shrugged his shoulder, taking another sharp drag off of his cigarette before stubbing it out in the overflowing ashtray. “I slept hard.”

“Same.”

Calum leant toward Michael and burrowed into his side. “Thanks for last night.”

Michael curled his arm around his shoulder, pulling him in a little closer. “You don’t have to thank me.”

Calum nuzzled his nose in against Michael’s chest. He smelled like nicotine and Lynx body spray. “But I got in the way of you and Ash.”

“S’fine,” Michael grunted out. “We’re not joined at the hip.”

“You sure?” Calum asked.

Michael frowned. “Why?”

Calum pinched the fabric of Michael’s shirt between his fingers. “ _I love you Michael Clifford_ ,” he parroted. “You two are in deep.”

Michael felt a little sick and was unsure as to _why_. When Ashton had said the words the night before, it had been a private thing. The words had washed over him and he’d felt _incredible_ , but hearing them from Calum’s mouth just made his stomach churn.

“I didn’t realize you guys were there,” Calum admitted. “It’s amazing, Mikey.”

Michael swallowed. “It’s not like that,” he said quickly, clearing his throat. “He’s the one who’s there.”

Calum lifted his head. “But you care about him, right?”

“Of course,” Michael said quickly, taking a sip of his coffee.

It was too hot, and he scalded his tongue.

“Michael,” Calum sighed.

Michael frowned. “What?”

“You’re doing the thing,” Calum said tiredly, reaching for his pack of cigarettes.

“What _thing_?” Michael demanded.

“You’re having emotions and instead of embracing it, you’re shutting down. I know you love Ash, okay? That’s not a _bad_ thing.”

Michael shifted uncomfortably, taking another large gulp of his coffee. “It’s just casual dating,” he said, trying to sound flippant.

“Oh no,” Calum sighed. “Jesus, you’re going to break his heart.”

Michael could feel anger flare inside of him at the assumption, and he sat up. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“He’s _in love_ with you, and the moment someone points it out, you get all defensive and you downplay it.”

Michael _knew_ he was right. He knew it like he knew the sky was blue, but he was damn well going to fight it.

“Things are just really good right now, and he’s caught up in the emotion.”

Calum snorted, sliding the filter of his unlit cigarette between his lips. “You’re full of fucking shit.”

“Fuck off!” Michael demanded angrily. “Are you seriously sitting here and giving me shit about this?”

“Yes!” Calum demanded, plucking the cigarette out of his mouth. “Because I _lost_ the guy I’m in love with, and you’re sitting here acting like the way Ashton feels about you is _casual_ or that he’s _caught up_. Have some fucking respect!”

Michael was speechless, watching as Calum angrily lit his cigarette and took a deep drag off of it. He was a little shocked at the ferocity of his words, but he was still firmly wrapped up in the _fear_ of what Calum was talking about.

It was easy to fend off Ashton’s words in his own head; he could justify it, and calm himself down with a reminder that they were just wrapped up too much in the _newness_ of their relationship that his words probably didn’t mean all that much.

But Calum pointing it out terrified him.

“If you’re going to fuck him over, dump him now,” Calum added moodily, picking up his coffee to take a sip.

Michael folded his hands, having the sense to put his mug down lest he take _another_ burning gulp of his coffee, and he let out a soft sigh.

Time passed slowly, and the only real sounds were Calum sipping his coffee and taking long drags off his cigarette. Michael wasn’t sure if he should say anything, because he was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he’d say something else to set Calum off.

He was lucky that the other man finally caved.

“Michael, you get what I’m saying, right?” he asked softly. “That it’s obvious Ashton is into you in a big way, and if you’re not, you have to say something.”

“It’s not that I’m not,” Michael said softly. “I’m just _scared_. He says it a lot and I try not to cringe, you know? Because no one has ever told me they love me, apart from mum and dad, you know?”

Calum stubbed out his cigarette. “It’s time to grow the fuck up,” he said softly, his hand finding Michael’s. “And realise that someone else loves you, okay? Don’t break his heart.”

Michael wanted Ashton. His arms and the soft kiss he’d no doubt press to Michael’s forehead. But he was so conscious now, that every time he’d said those three little words, Michael hadn’t once felt the need to say them back.

He _wanted_ to.

But he didn’t feel it yet.

And every time Ashton said it, it was just a reminder that he wasn’t in love.

“I don’t know, Cal.”

“You need to figure it out,” Calum mumbled. “Because you shut him down once already, and you know Ash has the biggest heart out of all of us, but he can’t take it a second time.”

Michael sighed, leaning heavily on Calum. “How do I say it? How do I tell him that I want him to stop saying I love you? Doesn’t that make me a horrible person?”

“Maybe,” Calum said softly, curling his arm around Michael’s back. “But if that’s what you need, then trust him, okay? Talk to him.”

Michael felt horribly guilty, depleting Calum of the little amount of emotional energy he had left.

“I’m sorry. Talk to me about Luke, okay?”

Calum sighed. “I’ve got to go over there later,” he mumbled. “Say goodbye.”

“I’m so sorry, Cal,” Michael mumbled. “That this happened.”

“I know,” Calum nodded slowly. “But you were right, last night. This Brazil thing is the right thing to do, and I know that if Ben and Sarah hadn’t have died, Luke might’ve come, we might’ve been able to work it out. But now that he’s got Ruby, that’s his main priority. He has to put her first, and I can’t…I can’t expect him to wait,” he whispered.

Michael snuggled into him, pulling Calum closer. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I want to fix it.”

“I know,” Calum mumbled. “It’s…it’s what it is, okay? I’m _leaving_ tomorrow, and things are going to change completely and I’m going to get this new life and I worry about Luke. I know he has you and Ash, but I feel like I’m leaving a guy with a baby.”

Michael cupped the back of his neck, pressing soft kisses to Calum’s jaw. “I’ll try and help, okay? Ash is going to move in, okay? And we’ll be there and take care of them both.”

“I know,” Calum murmured, gasping out softly into Michael’s neck. “How do I say goodbye? How do I look him in the eye and kiss Ruby and just _leave_?”

Michael could feel tears in his eyes, could feel Calum’s against his throat. “You just do it, okay?” he tried softly. “You love him and kiss him and tell that baby you love her, because I _know_ you do, Cal. This isn’t about not loving her. This is about life sometimes sucking so bad and that the choices we make don’t always feel right, but they are. This is _right_.”

Calum sobbed, the most heart-wrenching sound Michael had ever _heard_ , and grabbed fistfuls of his t-shirt, dragging him in roughly.

Michael wasn’t sure if he could sit there and listen, but there was nothing he could say or do to fix it. He felt sick to his stomach, and he couldn’t remember a time Calum had cried like that. Even when Mali had announced she was moving to London and he was devastated at the idea of saying goodbye, he’d held himself together and wrapped his arms around her waist and promised to visit, when he could.

But this was something worse, something Michael couldn’t fix, and he _hated_ it.

“Cal,” he whispered softly, dragging him in closer still. “I love you, okay? I love you so much and I will do everything I can.”

Calum nodded quickly against his shoulder, letting out another heartbreaking sob.

Michael just hoped that everything he could do, would be enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only THREE chapters to go now! Thanks for sticking with me, it feels as though I wrote this forever ago. I am definitely ready to move on, and share all the other things I've been working on, things I am so excited about!
> 
> Thank you to whoever is reading/subscribing and leaving kudos, and special thanks to Skagger, annaisastupididiot, chunkysalsa, asickburn0ut, Migs & CupidGenie for their comments. 
> 
> xoxo


	29. Chapter 29

Michael wrinkled his nose, dragging three t-shirts out of his overnight bag and immediately tossed them aside. He was starting to feel a little panicked, the shower running in Ashton’s ensuite bathroom, and he could hear the older man humming a song he didn’t know, and Michael _knew_ he was meant to be getting dressed.

Ashton’s work thing was at eight _sharp_ , and it was almost a quarter past seven and Michael had been standing there in front of his bag with a towel around his waist for almost twenty minutes now, sure that every single shirt he’d thrown into his bag that morning wasn’t suitable – or _clean_ – enough to wear to a fancy work thing.

The _fancy work thing_ was just tapas and beer at a trendy bar in the city, but to Michael it was like the goddamn Grammy’s or something.

Ashton had invited him, and that meant Michael had to put on clean clothes and behave himself and shake hands with people he’d probably never see again, and he couldn’t _believe_ he thought his torn Green Day shirt would be appropriate.

He let out a tiny, frustrated whine, tugging his towel off, and pulled on boxers and his black skinny jeans and thought _nothing_ as he pushed the door to Ashton’s closet open, and started to flick through the shirts hanging on the rack.

There were pressed shirts that he wouldn’t be caught _dead_ wearing, and he managed to find a few passable t-shirts in the back.

He could feel the heat in his cheeks as he grabbed a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, the fabric soft against his fingers as he tugged it on, turning to grab for his beat up denim jacket, tugging it on quickly. He wasn’t reading into it, he just needed a shirt, that was it.

“Hey babe, bathroom’s free,” Ashton called.

Michael’s fingers went to his hair, knowing he would be working with a foreign blow dryer and he cursed himself for forgetting his.

“Be there in a sec,” Michael called, shoving the various items of clothing strewn over the bed back into his bag. He left it on the floor by Ashton’s dresser, crossing over into the bathroom.

Steam swirled around Ashton as he stood drying himself, before slinging the towel around his hips.

Michael smiled. “You look good.”

Ashton rolled his eyes. “Just do your hair. We can’t be late.”

Michael smirked, groping at Ashton’s ass as the older man left the bathroom, leaving him to wipe away the condensation on the large mirror, and figure out the blow dryer. After a few moments Michael had it down, using a large amount of Ashton’s hair products to tame the dark strands of his hair into something resembling _style_.

“Which one?”

Michael turned to see Ashton in the doorway, dressed in tight black jeans and holding two shirts up. One was the white polka dot button down that Michael _loved_ and the other was a soft grey shirt.

“Polka dots,” Michael nodded.

Ashton grinned, focusing on Michael’s chest, and for a moment, the younger man was worried.

“You okay?”

“Is that my shirt?” Ashton asked.

Michael felt his stomach clench and he looked down, almost as if he wanted to confirm it for himself. The black material was so soft against his skin, and it smelled so undeniably Ashton, and he realized that by putting it on, he opened the door to shameless, merciless mocking.

“It _is_ my shirt,” Ashton smirked, stepping into the bathroom, hanging his two shirt options on the bar of the towel rack before approaching Michael, wrapping his arms around his waist. “It looks incredibly cute on you.”

Michael was tempted to turn the dryer onto high and blast it into Ashton’s smug face but the way the older man’s fingers pressed into his lower back made him reconsider.

“Is it okay that I borrow it?”

“More than okay,” Ashton smiled, leaning in to kiss along the collar of the shirt.

Michael bit down on his bottom lip. “I thought we couldn’t be late.”

Ashton laughed softly, his hands squeezing Michael’s hips. “It looks so good on you.”

“It’s just a shirt,” Michael mumbled. “You wear mine all the time.”

“Yeah, after sex or when I need to go to the bathroom. You’re wearing mine _out_ , to a _work thing_ no less, and that’s sexy.”

Michael rolled his eyes, giving Ashton’s bare chest a little shove. “Yeah, well I’m going to spill beer on it,” he sneered playfully, breaking out of the other man’s grip to finish his hair.

Ashton laughed, tugging the polka dot shirt off its hanger and pulled it on, doing up the little buttons before tucking it into his jeans loosely.

Michael tried to hide his smirk, rolling his eyes affectionately as he turned back to the mirror.

**

Michael wished Ashton’s shirt came with a dash of the older man’s confidence. Because they’d only been in the crowded bar for twenty minutes and he already felt like he was being swallowed up by the room, the only thing tethering him to the here and now was Ashton’s hand holding his.

He smiled politely when Ashton introduced him to people, the room so loud he could barely hear, but nodded his way through the awkwardness of meeting Ashton’s colleagues and members of the band who were celebrating the end of recording their first album.

He accepted the beer that someone pushed into his hand, and was taking lengthy sips as Ashton mingled, feeling like an accessory more than anything. He just wasn’t built to socialize, whereas Ashton _flourished_. He was laughing and shaking hands and being pulled into selfies and Michael was kind of proud of him.

He found himself sitting at the bar hours later, helping himself to amazing chicken tacos and taking advantage of the bar tab. He was content, really, making idle conversation with the bartender when he came back to top up Michael’s beer.

He was almost through his fifth taco when he felt a hand on his hip, and he looked up at Ashton.

“Hi,” Ashton smiled.

His cheeks were rosy, a clear sign he’d had a lot to drink, and he was smiling widely.

“Hi yourself,” Michael smiled back, reaching up to cup one of Ashton’s red cheeks. “You okay?”

“Someone from the band convinced me that a cock sucking cowboy shot was a good idea.”

“Oh, you’ve had more than one,” Michael smiled, wrapping his arm around Ashton’s waist and pulled him in between his legs.

Ashton laughed, leaning in to rest his forehead against Michael’s. “You’re so pretty, do you know that?”

Michael snorted. “Have you had anything to eat?”

Ashton kissed over his cheek. “Those chicken kebab things were great.”

Michael smiled, his eyelashes fluttering and his hands pulling Ashton in further.

“Seriously Mikey,” Ashton sighed. “You’re so beautiful. I love you.”

Michael bit down on his bottom lip, his nails curling in against the other man’s hips. “C’mon, you’ve had a lot to drink.”

Ashton’s mouth skimmed over his cheek and down his jaw, biting gently. “Come dance with me.”

“I don’t dance,” Michael snorted.

“Then come meet some more people,” Ashton suggested. “Please? I want to show off my hot boyfriend.”

“Why don’t we go back to your place?” Michael suggested. “You’re moving in with Luke on Friday, and it’s going to be the last time we’ll be alone for a while.”

Ashton considered it, his cheeks still bright pink and his fingers sliding up under Michael’s t-shirt. “Come meet Tyler, at least,” he bargained. “He plays bass and he’s got an amazing beard.”

“If I meet him can I take you home?”

Ashton grinned. “Of course! What time is it anyway?”

“It’s almost eleven,” Michael smiled. “And I should cut you off before you get too messy.”

Ashton kissed him, his lips clumsy.

Michael rolled his eyes and pushed Ashton away. “C’mon,” he mumbled softly.

“I love you,” Ashton mumbled. “I love you so much, Mikey.”

Michael cleared his throat, gently shoving Ashton away so he could slip off his seat. “Let’s just go.”

“No, meet Tyler,” Ashton sighed.

“I want to go, Ash.”

Ashton frowned, the alcohol clearly slowing him down. “Why? Aren’t you having a good time?”

Michael bit down on his bottom lip. “I’m uncomfortable.”

Ashton’s face fell, and his hands cupped Michael’s jaw. “Shit, did something happen?” he asked quickly. “Jesus, why didn’t you say something?”

Michael knew he couldn’t have the conversation they needed to have while Ashton was drunk. He’d been avoiding it ever since he spoke to Calum about it, the desperate fear that came whenever Ashton said those three little words.

“I guess I’m just tired,” Michael whispered, leaning into Ashton’s touch. “Can we go back to your place?”

“Yeah, babe,” Ashton mumbled softly. “You shoulda said something.”

Michael kissed him softly, trying to soothe his worry, but was relieved when Ashton took his hand and laced their fingers together, making a move towards the rest of the dwindling party to say goodbye.

**

Michael whined, tilting his head back as Ashton’s teeth closed over the skin of his neck, his hands shoving him more firmly against the wall next to the linen closet, their hips rutting together as Ashton moved inside of him.

He listened to Ashton grunt, face pressed into Michael’s throat as his hips snapped quickly, his pants pushed down just below his ass, shirt rucked up and fingers burning hot against Michael’s skin.

Michael’s pants and underwear were somewhere between the front door and their current spot, his right leg lifted high up off the ground and around Ashton’s hip, his fingers scrambling for purchase against Ashton’s shoulders.

He could feel the tight coil of release starting to simmer in his belly, whining at each sharp thrust of Ashton inside him, his hair matted to his forehead and his dick hard and desperate between their bodies.

“Jesus,” Ashton groaned softly, fingernails digging into Michael’s thigh. “Feel so fucking good.”

Michael whimpered, feeling the ache of not enough prep set in, and he _loved_ it. The desperation in which Ashton prepared him with just spit and a few fingers before pushing into him with just spit as lubrication was promising him a feeling that he’d experience for days.

Ever since their test results came back – clean on _all_ fronts – they’d taken full advantage of not using condoms. It bought spontaneity back into their relationship, and Michael loved it. Ashton would rub up against him and it was enough for Michael to fall into his arms, into whatever he wanted.

And he was relieved that Ashton’s hands had been on him as they took the lift to his floor, and took away the possibility of having to talk about what was bothering Michael, and he hoped that maybe Ashton would forget completely.

Michael would just manage his feelings better. That’s all he needed to do.

“Close,” Ashton whined softly, tugging Michael’s thigh up higher, thrusting harder.

Michael cried out, his head falling back against the wall as his hips rocked against Ashton’s movements.  He was exhausted, his body really feeling it, and he couldn’t help but crave more of it, getting lost in the dizzying heights of pleasure that Ashton was so good at giving him.

His breath was coming in rough, harsh gasps, and his fingernails were digging so tightly into Ashton’s shoulder he was worried he was tearing the skin. Ashton didn’t seem to care; his teeth were sinking into Michael’s shoulder, his tongue sliding over his skin as his thrusts got faster, harder.

It was _almost_ on the side of being too much, and Michael tried not to wince, because he was _so_ close, and if he could just hold on a little longer-

“Oh God,” Ashton moaned loudly, nails digging into Michael’s hip as he came suddenly, his knees shaking and threatening to buckle. “God Mikey, I fucking _love_ you.”

Whatever Michael felt the moment before Ashton said those words seemed to disappear, and all of a sudden, nausea replaced the desire in his belly and he felt every single movement Ashton made, raw and hard inside of him.

The other man was oblivious, panting into Michael’s neck, his hands gentler against Michael’s thighs as he rode out his high, hips coming to a slow, stuttered stop a few moments later.

Michael bit down on his bottom lip, hands no longer on Ashton, but dangling at his sides. He didn’t know what to do or say, and he hoped Ashton was still drunk enough that he wouldn’t question it.

The older man pulled out slowly, and Michael couldn’t hold back his whimper as he did so, his eyes looking down, at his now soft cock, and at the wooden floorboards under his feet.

“Shit, that was amazing,” Ashton whispered, leaning back in to kiss over his neck. “You’re so incredible.”

Michael kept his mouth shut, tensing up as Ashton’s hands started to roam over his hips, one hand moving lower, and between his legs.

“Oh.”

Michael flinched as Ashton pulled away, and his fingers tugged the bottom of his t-shirt – _Ashton’s_ t-shirt – down over his crotch and tried to hide himself away.

“Are you okay?” Ashton asked softly. “I mean, you were _into_ it, right?”

“Of course,” Michael said softly. “I guess I’m just tired.”

Ashton’s face was creased into a frown. “Are you sure? Because you were upset at the bar, and now this…”

Michael didn’t want to say it.

 _I was hard but the moment you said you loved me my dick went soft_?

It was cruel and awful and despite it being _true_ , Michael couldn’t do it.

“I’m just tired,” he repeated again, reaching out to take Ashton’s hand, wincing as he moved too quickly. “We should just go to bed.”

“No,” Ashton insisted, the frown staying put on his face. “What’s going on?”

Michael sighed. “Ash, can we please just talk in the morning?”

“I want to talk now,” Ashton insisted, pulling his underwear and jeans back up, leaving the denim hanging open.

“Can I at least put on pants?” Michael mumbled.

“Of course,” Ashton said slowly, stepping away from him.

Michael felt cold without his close presence, and he kept the shirt pulled down over himself as he headed toward the bedroom.

His ass ached and he wanted to shower and get rid of Ashton splashed over his thighs but he knew the other man wasn’t going to let him out of the impending conversation.

He grabbed a pair of boxer shorts from his bag and disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He sagged against it, letting out a soft sigh. He avoided making eye contact with himself in the mirror, grabbing a few tissues out of the box on the sink and wiped at his thighs, quickly pulling on his boxers.

“Michael?”

Michael looked at the closed door, and could imagine Ashton on the other side, a pensive and apprehensive look on his face.

It was what made this conversation so much harder to have.

“Yeah?”

The door eased open slowly, and Michael was comforted by Ashton’s warm eyes.

“Are you…”

Michael crossed over the tiles to his side, pulling Ashton into his arms.

“Mikey,” Ashton mumbled, his hands cupping Michael’s hips gently. “What did I do?”

He _couldn’t_ say it. He couldn’t tell the man – who was _in love_ with him – that those very words were what separated them.

“Is it cause I drank so much?” Ashton questioned. “You know I’d never let anything happen to you, right? That if I knew you weren’t having a good time, we could’ve left.”

“No,” Michael said softly, pulling back. “Jeez, Ash. You haven’t done anything, okay?”

He pulled away and walked passed the older man into the bedroom, sitting down on the king sized bed.

“We were having sex and you didn’t finish,” Ashton said softly, sitting beside him. “You weren’t even…”

“I know,” Michael mumbled, his cheeks red with embarrassment.

“I love you so much and I’d never hurt you.”

Michael flinched, his fingernails digging into his palm so harshly he bit down on his lip to counteract the pain.

“Oh God,” Ashton whispered. “It’s that, isn’t it?”

Michael looked up at him, at the crestfallen expression on his face. He looked positively gutted, his lips pressed together in a tight line, his eyes full of pain.

“I’m sorry,” Michael whispered, feeling the emotion start to choke him. “It’s not that I don’t care about you, but when you say it, I jus-“

“You lose your hard on,” Ashton muttered out bitterly. “Me saying I love you _literally_ made you soft. That’s…wow. That’s _great_.”

Michael hiccupped, his stomach rolling. “I’m sorry. It just scares me.”

Ashton ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I’m such a fucking idiot. I keep saying it, and I thought it was becoming a good thing. I thought you hearing it might make you feel better, that you’d know I’m in this with you. But it’s making it worse.”

Michael reached out for his hand, gripping it tightly between his own. “It’s amazing, Ash, honestly. No one has _ever_ said that to me before and meant it. And I want to say it back, but every time you say it, it reminds me that I _haven’t_ said it, and it’s…it’s overwhelming.”

Ashton was angry, Michael could tell. His fists were clenched and his jaw was tensed and Michael wondered if this was their first official fight, and what would happen now. He’d never _done_ this before, and he was worried that he’d ruined it completely.

“Please talk to me,” he pleaded softly, his chest tight. “I’m trying, Ash. Please don’t hate me.”

Ashton sighed, releasing the tight grip on his hands and looked at Michael. “I don’t _hate_ you,” he mumbled. “Jesus, I lov-“ he stopped abruptly.

Michael smiled weakly.

Ashton returned it. “C’mere,” he sighed.

Michael fell into his chest with a relieved sigh, nosing against his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ashton mumbled, his arm wrapping around Michael’s waist. “How long have you felt like this? I feel like shit.”

“Please don’t,” Michael murmured. “It’s just been for the last little while, I swear. I want to say it, and I hate that I haven’t.”

Ashton kissed his forehead. “Will you make me a promise?”

“Yes.”

“ _Talk_ to me,” Ashton requested softly. “About anything, anytime. If you’re upset or sad or angry.”

“I will,” Michael nodded, wrapping his arms around Ashton’s middle. “I just didn’t want you to break up with me.”

Ashton snorted. “You’re ridiculous,” he accused softly. “But hey, if you thought I was going to break up with you, can we officially call this a relationship?”

Michael blushed, a smile curving onto his face. “Yeah, I can work with that.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there, guys! I love this chapter, because Michael finally gets his dislike of the L word off his chest! 
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading/subscribing and leaving kudos, and special thanks to irwah, Skagger, chunkysalsa, annaisastupididiot, Migs, velvethood, CupidGenie & asickburn0ut for their awesome comments!
> 
> xoxo


	30. Chapter 30

“Are you alright?”

Michael’s cheeks felt warm and he was reminded of when they did this months ago, when Michael had said horrible things and left Ashton on his mother’s driveway and walked away, with no explanation, no _reason_.

But wanted to _do_ this. He wanted to be taken home to Ashton’s mum’s house to have dinner, because that’s what people _did_ when they were in a relationship.

At least, that’s what Michael remembered from when Luke and Calum were together. They’d end up at either Joy and David’s table, or Liz and Andy’s, trading polite chit chat over wine, and as far as Michael knew, neither of them had disagreements on the street because of it.

So he’d asked Ashton the week before if he could organize it, much to the older man’s surprise. But Michael had been thinking about it for a while – since the whole _love_ fiasco – and he wanted to do something to show Ashton how much he was cared for.

And he _was_.

Michael wasn’t sure what being in love felt like, but he knew that what he felt for Ashton was incredible. He was happy and satisfied and content and _honoured_ , and even though the three little words weren’t rolling around in his mouth, he had real, tangible feelings for the older man.

So he wanted to prove it.

“I’m okay,” he smiled, squeezing Ashton’s hand where they stood at Anne-Marie’s door, moments after Ashton had rang the doorbell.

“Are you sure?” the older man asked. “It’s okay if you’re nervous.”

“Do you _want_ me to be nervous?” Michael countered.

He wasn’t going to admit to the anxiety, though he was sure Ashton could tell his palms were sweating, and that he’d bitten his thumbnail down to the quick on the drive over. But he figured it was normal – though, considering the fact he’d known Anne-Marie for as long as he’d known Ashton, maybe it _was_ weird – and he was trying to breathe slowly and stay calm.

“You look really good.”

Michael could feel the heat rush into his cheeks as Ashton spoke, and he couldn’t help but lean into him pressing his nose against Ashton’s throat.

“ _Really_ good,” Ashton repeated in a soft murmur.

Michael snorted, looking down at the Led Zeppelin t-shirt he’d officially made his own, and couldn’t help the smile on his face.

Ashton squeezed his hand and Michael was about to lift his head to kiss the other man when the door was being opened all of a sudden, and he righted himself quickly, trying to quell the nervousness inside of him.

“Boys!”

“Hey, mum,” Ashton greeted, reaching out to open the screen door once his mother had flipped the lock, both boys stepping back.

Michael’s words were stuck in his throat as they stepped inside, watching as Ashton hugged his mum, and then Anne-Marie was turning to him.

“I’m sorry about last time,” he spilled out quickly as she was leaning in to hug him.

She frowned.

“Oh God,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I meant to say _hi_ but I’m so fucking awkward.”

Anne-Marie smiled, looking at her son momentarily, before looking back at Michael. “The time I found you and your little friends trying to melt army men in my microwave was a little more awkward than this, hon.”

Ashton let out a surprised snort which quickly turned into a giggle, and it broke the ice. Michael let out his own stuttered laugh, and let Anne-Marie pull him into a hug, which he enthusiastically returned.

He caught Ashton’s eye over her shoulder, and if Michael wanted to kiss him before, he _really_ wanted to kiss him then.

Anne-Marie let him go and turned to head for the kitchen, calling out the names of her other children. Ashton went to follow but Michael grabbed his hand, pulling him back.

The smile slipped from Ashton’s face and he frowned. “What?”

Michael smiled, his hands closing over Ashton’s shoulder to pull him closer before winding his arms around his neck. “You’re just really great,” he whispered softly, leaning in to kiss him.

The tension melted out of Ashton and he kissed back. “I didn’t _do_ anything,” he pointed out against Michael’s mouth.

“Oh, I can stop kissing you if you’d like?”

“No, no,” Ashton said quickly, his hands settling on Michael’s hips. “All good.”

Michael smirked, pressing a few other pecks to his lips.

“Ugh.”

Michael pulled away quickly to see Harry’s disgusted expression from where the teenager stood at the bottom of the stairs.

“Oh shut up,” Ashton said good-naturedly, stepping away from Michael to pull his sibling into a head lock. “You’re just jealous.”

“I don’t want to kiss Michael!” Harry insisted in a high-pitched voice, trying to shove his older brother away, to no avail.

Michael couldn’t help but smile, following the two of them towards the kitchen. The anxiety was melting away quickly, because he was _at home_ in the Irwin house. He had been since he was fifteen, hanging out with Calum in Ashton’s bedroom, ribbing the older man for not liking Fifa. He’d raided Anne-Marie’s fridge a hundred times, and busted Harry stealing matches from Ashton’s stash when they were seventeen, and hell-bent on setting things on fire.

While the two Irwin brothers focused on playfully beating each other up, Michael eased himself onto a barstool at the small counter in the kitchen, watching Anne-Marie cut up a cucumber.

“Anything I can do?” he offered, reaching out to steal a slice from the cutting board.

“You can get your fingers out of the way,” she smiled, a teasing lilt to her voice. “Other than that, sit here and update me. How are your folks?”

He smiled. “They’re good. Dad keeps talking about retiring but it’ll never happen, and mum is just mum.”

“I keep meaning to give her a call,” Anne-Marie admitted, somewhat regretfully. “Just with Harry’s last year of school, and Lauren is going to be eighteen soon…I feel like time is moving too quickly.”

“I know the feeling,” he sympathized with a smile. “She says the same thing, if it makes you feel any better.”

Anne-Marie smiled. “It does.”

The silence that fell between them was comfortable, and Michael even pushed the boundaries as he reached for another cucumber slice. She playfully rolled her eyes and turned her attention to her sons.

“Hey! Enough!” she called out. “I don’t need the headache of having to clean up after you break everything in my kitchen.”

Ashton looked sheepish as he released Harry, a playful scowl on the teenagers’ face as he raked his fingers through his hair, messing it up into a style that looked halfway between bed hair and a bad hair day.

“Maybe you could offer Michael a drink?” Anne-Marie suggested.

Michael grinned. “That’s a great idea. Michael will take a beer.”

Anne-Marie paused in what she was doing to set her eyes on him. “You’re not old enoug – oh.” She paused. “Sorry, knee jerk reaction from when you were sixteen and thought batting your eyelashes would get you alcohol.”

Ashton laughed, and Michael did the same, even as his cheeks turned pink. The ease of being around Ashton and his family felt so incredibly _right_ , and when Ashton was retrieving two beers from the fridge and set one in front of him, Michael pulled him in close to his side.

“You okay?”

Michael nodded, looking up at him. “This is great. They’re great.”

Ashton smiled. “You’re great.”

Michael rolled his eyes, and pulled him in a little closer.

**

“Michael, when do I get a sneak peek at _The New Broken Scene_?”

Michael smirked from behind his half-empty Corona, regarding Harry with mischievous eyes. “What makes you think you’re gonna get one?”

Michael couldn’t imagine the easy feeling in his stomach being at the Irwin dinner table. He thought it’d be horrible, that there would be awkward conversation and lengthy pauses and he’d say something incredibly inappropriate to offend Anne- Marie.

Instead, the conversation was flowing, the food was _incredible_ , and he never wanted to leave. Especially not now that the lasagne was gone and Ashton’s hand was on his thigh as they all enjoyed homemade apple pie and ice cream.

“Oh come on,” Harry said with a soft whine to his voice. “You’ve been promising a sneak peek for _weeks_ now.”

Michael almost felt a little bad. His work was falling by the wayside – _again_ – and he had been promising his dedicated readers a little taste of his new graphic novel he planned to release alongside his first. The idea had come months ago, the last time he’d fallen into a bit of writers block.

“I really need to read _Jet Black Heart_ ,” Harry insisted, spooning ice cream into his mouth.

Michael snorted. “You and everyone else.”

“I bet Ashton’s read it,” Harry shot back, raising a brow challengingly.

Michael laughed, feeling Ashton’s hand squeeze his thigh under the table. “I’ll have you know, that Ashton has _not_ read it. He’d have to do a hell of a lot for me to see it before it’s printed.”

Ashton snorted.

Anne-Marie choked, just a little.

“Oh God, I didn’t mean sex stuff!” Michael insisted, his voice rising in volume.

The entire table burst into uncontrollable, high-pitched laughter, and Michael had never felt more at home.

**

“Comfy?”

Michael smiled, rolling over to curl closer to Ashton, pressing a kiss to his nose. “I am. You?”

Ashton pulled him in, hands roaming Michael’s bare back. “Surprisingly, yeah.”

They were squished into Ashton’s childhood double bed, between the blue striped sheets that Michael remembered from their teenage years. They’d both had a few beers too many at dinner, and they hadn’t planned on staying the night, but Michael had quickly accepted the invitation on Ashton’s behalf, tugging the older man up the stairs after saying goodnight to Anne-Marie.

It bought back memories of sleepovers when they were kids, trying to keep their laughter quiet so it wouldn’t alert Ashton’s mum to their activities. But this felt different, more grown up. Michael loved that he could cuddle up with Ashton in his old bed, and kiss him softly in the dark.

“Tonight was so great,” Michael mumbled softly. “I’m sorry I stuffed up the first time.”

“S’okay,” Ashton mumbled. “Last time doesn’t matter. And it _was_ great, right? We’ll have to come over more often.”

Michael nodded, throwing one of his legs over Ashton’s thigh. “And the snuggling is good too.”

“Mhm,” Ashton responded with a soft chuckle. “I can totally feel you up in my childhood bed.”

Michael laughed, his hand rubbing over Ashton’s bare back. “You can just _sleep_ , mister. I don’t fancy being busted by your mum _or_ your brother and sister.”

Ashton kissed him softly. “S’okay, let’s just sleep.”

Michael could’ve fallen into the kiss easily, but the beer had done a good job of mellowing him out, and he felt tired and sated and happy, and he fell asleep thinking of Ashton.

**

Michael _woke up_ with Ashton’s hands on him. At first, he was confused, feeling the soft, dragging pressure of fingertips against his thigh, before the touch faded away, and he was trying to chase another ten minutes of sleep.

Just as he was falling off the edge of unconsciousness, fingers closed over his hip. Those same fingers tugged him, dragging him backwards for a second before they were dipping in under the waistband of his boxer briefs.

Michael groaned, feeling the slow, grinding pressure of an erection against his behind, the fingertips at his waistband pressing lightly against his skin.

“Morning,” Ashton whispered, his voice low and gravelly, lips against Michael’s bare shoulder from where he was spooned behind him.

“Ash,” Michael whispered out, his eyes still closed. “W-what are you…”

“Ssh,” Ashton whispered, his mouth dragging over Michael’s shoulder.

“T-this isn’t a good idea,” Michael responded, even as he rocked his hips back, and his dick stirred to life in his underwear.

“S’early,” Ashton mumbled, fingers slowly guiding Michael’s underwear down over his hips, leaving them tangled around his thighs.

Michael’s breath came in pants from that moment on, his eyes opening to look at the yellowing Green Day poster on Ashton’s walls, its edges curling and torn.

“Do you want to?” Ashton asked softly, grinding his clothed erection against Michael’s naked ass.

Michael whimpered, nodding his head quickly. “Yeah, Ash. Want you.”

It was stupid, he knew that. Anne-Marie could knock at any moment to ask if they wanted coffee, or Harry could burst in to see if his brother was awake. There was a thousand and one reasons why having sex in Ashton’s childhood bedroom was a _bad fucking idea_ , but Michael didn’t care about a single one of them.

Especially as Ashton started kissing over his neck, dragging his warm lips over his skin as his hand slid over his abdomen, holding Michael tight and close as his hips rocked forward in a slow grind against Michael’s ass.

And Michael could come like this, if Ashton’s hand moved a little lower and curled around his half-hard dick, and if he thrust his dick a little harder against his ass, Michael could _come_ , and suddenly that’s all he wanted.

“Ash,” he whimpered softly, his hips pushing back.

“I’ve got you,” Ashton promised softly, hand moving higher up Michael’s torso, laying over his chest. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Michael’s eyes slid shut, biting down on his bottom lip as the other man’s hands mapped over his skin. It was like everywhere he touched turned hot, and soon Michael’s body was ablaze, and all he could taste and see and _feel_ was Ashton.

Especially as the other man kissed over his skin, finding spots that made Michael gasp; like the back of his neck or along his shoulder blade, and within moments his fingertips were shaking and closing around the sheets as he stole the pleasure for himself, letting it leave him unable to reciprocate.

“Ash,” he panted out, feeling sweat bead across his hairline.

“You okay?” the older man asked, the hand on Michael’s chest sliding down, stroking down his thigh.

“You’re incredible,” Michael whined out softly. “I just…your hands.”

Ashton kissed over his shoulder again, his hand cupping the back of Michael’s left thigh, moving it forward so it was bent at the knee, before sliding his hand down over the curve of his rear.

Michael sucked in a breath, his hips pushing back, his underwear caught around his knees.

“So perfect,” Ashton murmured softly, pressing his chest to Michael’s back, fingers dancing over the cleft of Michael’s ass.

Michael knew he wasn’t going to be able to keep it together. Not when Ashton was sleepily touching him, setting fires on his skin and kissing him so reverently. His heart was jumping in his chest, his stomach muscles tightened in anticipation. It was like it had never happened before, like Ashton’s hands had never touched the warmth of his skin, and Michael let out a soft, hiccupped moan.

Ashton kissed over his shoulder, hand rubbing up the back of Michael’s thigh slowly. “Feel so lazy,” he mumbled against his skin, fingertips running teasingly over the curve of Michael’s cheek.

“You can be lazy after you fuck me,” Michael whispered, his breaths coming hard and fast. “Right, Ash?” he asked, the idea of being _left_ in that state absolutely devastating.

“Right,” Ashton confirmed softly, the hand on Michael’s thigh moving, Ashton tugging it out from under the covers, leaning over Michael to tug open the draw to his bedside table, grabbing a small tube of lube out of it.

The sight of it made Michael’s stomach clench, the extra confirmation he’d wanted to make sure he wasn’t getting out of bed without an orgasm first.

He took the time while Ashton fiddled with the tube to slow his breathing, sucking in a slow, laboured breath until his lungs ached, and let it out just as slow. He flexed his fingers that had had a death grip on the sheets, watching as the skin of his knuckles bloomed pink again, and lifted a hand to run through his hair.

The wet touch of Ashton’s fingers against his hip startled him, feeling the older man move close again before nudging his nose against Michael’s shoulder, as two fingertips pressed between the cleft of his rear.

“Holy shit,” Michael whispered, hiccupping as Ashton’s fingertips ghosted over his entrance.

Ashton grazed his teeth over Michael’s pale shoulder, fingers stroking over his entrance slowly, even though they didn’t exactly have the luxury of time. But it felt like they were trapped in a bubble, as if being there with Michael was a homage to their past, to all the shit they’d got up to behind the closed door Ashton’s bedroom.

Michael was thinking about that – about _Ashton_ – as the older man’s fingers pressed inside of him. Two, straight off the bat, making him choke on a moan, but push his hips back, Ashton’s free hand stroking his hair.

Michael leant his head back, letting out soft pants of breaths, moving his left leg forward to give the older man access, his fingers pressing in all the way and stilling for just a second before curling, and Michael whimpered, feeling the spark inside of him start to burn.

“Mikey,” Ashton whispered softly, kissing his throat. “I-“

“I know,” Michael groaned softly, eyes squeezed shut tightly.

The words hung between them without Ashton actually saying them, and Michael knew it would freak him out, if they weren’t locked in the embrace they were in, but he didn’t have enough wits about him to care as Ashton’s fingers curled again.

He was whining softly, his head back against Ashton’s shoulder and his stomach muscles were jumping and he was too far gone to really make sense anymore. He was just concentrating on Ashton’s fingers inside of him, and his free hand stroking down his side over his abdomen and it was tearing him into pieces.

“Want you on your hands and knees,” Ashton whispered softly, kissing over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

Michael whimpered, nodding his head quickly. “Alright, yeah, okay.”

Ashton laughed softly, his fingers curling without fail. “You okay?”

“Shut up,” Michael whined softly. “You’re perfect.”

Ashton smiled, letting his fingers press in and out a few more times, his fingers curling in all the right ways before pulling them out. He was gentle as he helped Michael up onto his hands and knees, hands cupping around his hips to keep him up, thumbs stroking over his hipbones slowly.

Michael whined, fingers curling in the bedsheets as his thighs trembled. “Ash, c’mon. I need you.”

Ashton stroked over his skin again before his touch disappeared completely, shoving his boxers down below his ass and reached into his drawer again for a condom.

Michael listened, his senses heightened, as Ashton tore open the condom wrapper and he could _see_ it, in his head, just what Ashton was doing. How his long, deft fingers of his left hand would curl around the base of his erection as his right would roll the condom on. It was a picture Michael had seen dozens of times, and one that he never wanted to forget.

His breath was coming in quick, shaky breaths as Ashton’s fingers returned to his hips, slightly sticky wet from the lubricated condom, and Michael whimpered, feeling as though he was on the edge already.

“You okay?”

Michael nodded quickly, readjusting his hands curled around the messy sheets and tried to gather up his courage and his stamina and tried to keep quiet as Ashton’s right hand disappeared from his hip, and before he knew it, he could feel Ashton’s length pressing between his cheeks.

Ashton’s lips were suddenly against his back, kissing over the outline of his spine as he started to push forward, keeping steady and slow as he was finally sliding inside, letting out shaky breaths against Michael’s skin.

Michael felt like he was in an alternate dimension, like all that existed was the feeling of Ashton inside of him, and nothing else mattered. He was whimpering the entire time the older man was moving, and when he came to stop, Ashton’s hips pressed snugly to his behind, he was gasping.

“Mikey,” Ashton breathed, his lips warm against his back. “Slow breaths, okay?”

Michael nodded, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, the sheets clutched tightly in his hands. He tried to suck in a slow breath but Ashton’s hips moved, the tiniest bit, and he moaned.

Ashton chuckled softly, his hands sliding down Michael’s thighs slowly. “You’re so perfect.”

Michael had to block him out, his voice and his hands and his dick inside of him, because if he focused on it, if he really let the full weight hit him, he’d be done. So he lost himself in silence, breathing and trying not to concentrate on anything else but getting his shit together.

It felt like it took forever, but by the time Ashton was stroking his thighs and kissing his back, Michael didn’t feel like he was going to come, just yet.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he whispered softly. “Jesus, Ash.”

Ashton laughed softly, long fingers stroking over Michael’s hips and the roundness of his behind, bending his knees just a little as he gripped Michael tightly, and eased out of him, slowly.

Michael let out a shaky breath, trying to prepare himself for the push _in_ , but he was left breathless as Ashton’s hips rocked forward, and that’s when Michael realized he didn’t want to hang on, he wanted to _come_.

“Are you crying?”

Michael didn’t realize that the sounds coming out of him were sobs, his eyes closed tightly. “Just shut up,” he groaned out. “Just fuck me.”

Ashton laughed softly, getting lost in the movements of his hips, choking out his own moan when Michael pushed back to meet him.

It made Michael cringe, made pleasure bloom inside him so bright he trembled, his knees threatening to give out on him, but he was so close to the edge that he didn’t want to stop, whimpering as he moved his hips back, meeting each thrust Ashton gave him, again and again.

He was so impossibly hard, and it felt as though they’d been building up to this for hours, and Michael didn’t want to wait anymore, not when Ashton was grinding his hips forward, taking him with sharp, deep thrusts that threatened to make him come.

“Close,” Michael gasped out, pushing back faster, harder, feeling it rise inside him.

Ashton thrust harder, gripped his hips tighter, kissed over his back, the five o’clock shadow on his chin dragging rough marks over Michael’s pale skin.

Michael was hiccupping as it began, as his body went taut and his fingers curled tighter in the sheets and he pushed back – sharply – and came in frighteningly strong pulses against his stomach and the sheets.

Ashton slid an arm around his waist, holding him up as Michael began to waiver, tugging him up onto his knees with Michael’s back to his strong chest, hands holding him steady.

“Ash,” Michael whimpered softly, his head tipping back to rest on the older man’s shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” Ashton promised in his ear. “I’m so close.”

Michael groaned, rocking his hips back and taking everything Ashton was giving him, and could feel the desperate need inside of himself to ride another wave of pleasure.

Ashton was grunting, fingers so tight on his hips there would be bruises, and his arm still locked around Michael’s waist. His hips rocked up hard and fast, thrusting into Michael’s willing body. His hand moved south, dragging over the younger man’s sensitive erection, wrapping his fingers around him loosely and started to stroke.

Michael gasped, wanting to push away Ashton’s hand, but his body was betraying him, eager for more.

“Shit,” Ashton whispered, kissing over Michael’s neck and shoulder. “Gonna come again for me?”

Michael was a mess, letting out a soft sob in reply to the other man’s question. It was so much that he wanted it to be over, and as Ashton’s thrusts got harder and more desperate, Michael was falling apart again, feeling the burn of pleasure set his body ablaze.

Ashton was gasping, thrusting his hips forward quickly before he came, nudging right up against Michael’s prostate, leaving the younger man whimpering.

They couldn’t stay upright for long, and Ashton was gentle as he pulled out and guided Michael back down against the mattress before taking off the condom and joining him a moment later, pulling him into his arms.

“Dead,” Michael whispered, his eyes shut and his skin flushed as he tried to get his breath back. “Seriously, you fucked me to death.”

Ashton let out a soft, breathy laugh. “I feel like I should be proud of that.”

“You should,” Michael snorted, rolling over slowly to plaster his front to Ashton’s, kissing up his throat.

“Thanks, Mikey.”

Michael smiled, running his hand up Ashton’s side. “For what?”

“For liking me back.”

Michael couldn’t help the smile on his face, pressing another kiss to Ashton’s throat, and closed his eyes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to update! Sorry everyone! This is the second last chapter, and it feels like I've been posting it for years! I'm glad you all liked the last chapter, however embarrassing and awkward it was, and I hope you liked this one! I really wanted to redo the fateful dinner with the parents, and it worked out well!
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading, subscribing and leaving kudos and huge thanks to Skagger, annaisastupididiot, rocketmail, asickburn0ut, chunkysalsa & CupidGenie for their awesome comments!
> 
> xoxo


	31. Chapter 31

“She really said it?”

Michael smiled, pressing the phone tighter to his ear, able to hear the absolute elation in Calum’s voice. “I heard it with my own ears, bro.”

“Wow,” Calum laughed on the other end of the line. “That’s incredible.”

“Yeah, it was,” Michael agreed.

“H-how was Luke? When it happened?”

Michael hated this part of his phone calls with Calum. They’d shoot the shit for a half hour, talk about soccer and Michael’s novel and then conversation would move to Ashton and then – inevitably – Calum would ask about Luke.

“He was upset,” Michael admitted uneasily. “He’s still struggling, Cal. So when Ruby said your name…”

Calum sighed. “Fuck. I’m a piece of shit.”

“You’re not,” Michael insisted, shifting on his bed so he could lay down. “You did the right thing, by taking the opportunity. Everyone knew how hard it would be.”

“Yeah, but I get to live this brand new life and I’m busy all the time and he’s struggling and I’m not there. And I _miss_ them both, so much.”

“It won’t last forever,” Michael tried softly. “You’ll come back and things will be okay.”

“I can’t do that,” Calum said. “I can’t think that there’s a future for us when I get back, because I _hurt_ him, Mikey. And he has Ruby to think about and I really can’t do that to myself.”

“I’m so shit at this,” Michael sighed. “I wish Ashton was here.”

“Do you love him yet?” Calum asked. “I’m sick of waiting.”

Michael laughed, rolling onto his side, the phone still against his ear. “I don’t know what love is, remember? All I know is that he makes me anxious and my palms sweat and sometimes I think I’m going into cardiac arrest when he’s around.”

Calum laughed, the sound bright an obnoxious in Michael’s ear. “You’re so fucking stupid, Clifford.”

Michael frowned. “Well that’s just mean.”

“What you just described is _love_ , you idiot. You’re meant to feel sick and weak and weird. It means you’re in it.”

“What?”

Calum laughed again. “When he looks at you, do you blush?”

“I’m a grown man, I don’t _blush_.”

“So you do,” Calum said flatly. “I bet you think about him, even when he’s not around. And you don’t just think about sex, you think about holding his hand or grabbing dinner or how he looks when he wakes up in the morning.”

“Oh please,” Michael snorted, rolling his eyes. “It sounds like you’re quoting a sickening romantic comedy. Where do you get this shit?”

“From experience,” Calum said softly. “It’s how I feel about Luke.”

Michael felt instantly bad, and he crushed his eyes shut against his stupidity.

“It’s alright,” Calum said, a few moments later. “You don’t have to feel bad. I _want_ you to love Ash.”

Michael knew he’d panic about this later – because _holy shit_ , was he really _in love_? – but for now he kind of wanted to crawl into a hole.

“I knew that me leaving had consequences,” Cal said softly. “It meant I’d lose Luke and Ruby, and despite how much I didn’t want to leave, I did. So I sit here and I think about them and sometimes I think I’m a total fucking moron for walking away.”

“He’ll be okay,” Michael tried softly. “I don’t want you to worry, we’re all going to take care of him.”

“I know,” Calum said. “But there’s only so much you can do, you know?”

Michael fell silent again, wishing he had the words to ease Calum’s fears. “He still loves you.”

“I know,” Calum said softly. “He’s been texting I just…I can’t.”

“Cal,” Michael sighed. “You can’t have it both ways.”

“I know, and I know it’s unfair to him, but I’m not strong enough to remember why I did this. I will crumble if I talk to him and I will go against everything I thought was right.”

“You’re stronger than you know,” Michael said softly. “You know that right?”

“Sometimes I do,” Calum admitted. “Others…not so much. Look, I gotta go, okay? I’ve got training in ten.”

“Is that the real reason, or did I bum you out?”

Calum laughed. “You told me Ruby said my _name_ , it’s impossible to be bummed today.”

Michael smiled. “She really did say it, dude. She saw your face and said _Lum_. It was adorable.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Calum said sincerely. “It made my day.”

They said a quick goodbye and Michael felt awful as he dropped his phone, crushing his eyes shut against the new information whirling around his head.

He was unable to think of Calum, or Luke or anyone else, because the word _love_ was swirling around in his mind and he couldn’t get it out of his head.

Was he in _love_?

Was Calum right?

Were his often bouts of nausea, heart palpitations and sweaty palms an indication that he was in love with Ashton?

It seemed laughable that love would come with such horrific symptoms. The last time Michael had had stomach cramps, diarrhoea wasn’t far behind, so to think it was a sign he was falling in love with his best friend was laughable.

He wasn’t falling in love.

**

Michael was _so_ in love.

He’d been denying it for a week, after his conversation with Calum, and he’d managed to block it out of his mind completely, in favour of just concentrating on Ashton – when he’d see him – and it was easy.

Until Ashton called him one Saturday morning, tripping over his words and leaving long pauses between sentences. Despite the fact Michael was half asleep, he could tell something was up, and it made him nervous.

Had Ashton realized that finally, Michael wasn’t good enough? Were they going to break up before Michael figured out if he was in love?

“Luke kind of,” Ashton sighed, from the other end of the phone. “He got wasted last night and come home early this morning and he was so trashed.”

“That’s responsible parenting,” Michael snorted, pushing the covers off his legs.

He wished the conversation was happening in person, it had been _weeks_ since Ashton had spent the night, since moving in with Luke. And while Michael knew he was doing a good thing, he couldn’t help but want to keep Ashton to himself.

“Mikey, he kissed me.”

Michael’s eyes popped open widely and he almost dropped his phone, pressing it harder against the side of his face. “He _what_?”

“Don’t panic,” Ashton said quickly. “He was really drunk and pathetic and tried to kiss me but I stopped him.”

“He tried to _kiss_ you?” Michael repeated, kicking the blankets off as he struggled to get out of bed. “I’m going to _kill_ him!”

Ashton chuckled softly. “He feels really bad, if that’s any consolation?”

Michael snorted, trying to pull off his t-shirt without dropping his phone, looking for a clean one. “He _should_ feel bad! You don’t kiss people who are in relationships!”

“That’s what I told him,” Ashton assured him. “He’s really sick and he’s still sleeping.”

“Oh he won’t be when I get there,” Michael scoffed, jumping around on one foot as he pulled on his pants. “I’m going to make his hangover look like a fucking walk in the park!”

“It’s okay,” Ashton said, trying to placate him. “You don’t have to defend my honour.”

“Oh, this isn’t about that,” Michael insisted, finally tugging on a clean shirt, grabbing his wallet and keys. “This is about me kicking his ass because _no one_ kisses my boyfriend and gets away with it.”

Ashton started to respond, a soft laugh reaching Michael’s ear but the younger man was too angry, too incensed to carry on the conversation and he hung up, leaving his bedroom and headed for the driveway to teach Luke a lesson.

**

 “You didn’t have to come over.”

Michael’s eyebrows knitted together in a frown, looking at Ashton closely. He looked tired but he had an amused smile on his lips and Michael wanted to wipe it off.

So he grabbed Ashton by the front of his t-shirt and tugged him in, crashing their mouths together in a hot kiss, his tongue pressing into the older man’s mouth slowly.

Ashton let out a soft whimper, his hands finding Michael’s hips and squeezing, kissing him back immediately.

Michael could feel the heat spread through him and pressed himself against the other man, one hand reaching up to cup his stubbled jaw.

“Jesus,” Ashton moaned as he finally pulled away from the kiss to breathe, resting his forehead to Michael’s. “Did that serve some kind of purpose?”

Michael kissed over his jaw, pulling Ashton in closer. “You’re mine,” he whispered softly, biting at his chin.

Ashton shivered. “Y-yeah, okay, Mikey.”

Michael kissed him again, a quick, hard press of their lips. “You don’t know how it feels.”

Ashton snorted. “I don’t? I know _exactly_ how it feels to think about you with another guy.”

Michael felt his cheeks blush, and he was momentarily embarrassed as he thought about Harry. It had been _months_ since he’d even had a passing thought about the other man, and he always felt guilty whenever he did.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Ashton murmured.

“Don’t be,” Michael said quickly, kissing his cheek. “Just…it feels really shitty, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ashton agreed. “You don’t have to kick his ass.”

“Maybe not,” Michael relented. “But I think I’d like to make him _think_ I will.”

Ashton laughed softly, his head turning at the sound of Ruby protesting somewhere inside the house. “Come in? I abandoned Ruby in the highchair.”

Michael nodded, stepping in and closed the door after him, following Ashton further inside Luke’s house, to see Ruby sitting in her highchair. She waved at him before reaching towards Ashton and Michael watched him lift the baby and rest her on his hip.

“I’m gonna,” Michael said, pointing towards the hall.

Ashton didn’t give him permission, but Michael swore he saw him nod his head, which gave him all the approval he needed to wake Luke up and freak him out.

**

“Do you promise?”

“I promise,” Ashton whispered, his teeth grazing down Michael’s chin.

Michael let out a soft whimper, his hands shaking just a little as they closed over Ashton’s hips, curling them over so his nails dug into his bare skin, rolling his hips up to grind against him.

“You’re not…interested?”

“No,” Ashton breathed, his mouth kissing slowly down Michael’s neck, his hands supporting his body weight. “It’s you, Michael.”

Michael whimpered, his eyes fluttering shut as his hands moved to undo Ashton’s belt, tugging it open harshly before starting on his button and zipper.

“It’s been you for so long,” Ashton whispered, lifting his hips as Michael pushed his pants down.

Michael bit down on his bottom lip, feeling his chest ache as Ashton’s mouth found his in a slow kiss, and it felt like it did at the beginning. Curled up in his bed, keeping quiet so they wouldn’t alert his parents to what they were doing, and Michael _loved_ it.

He’d managed to convince Ashton to stay the night, because it had been _so_ long since he had, and Michael was still feeling slightly insecure from that morning, after finding out about Luke kissing Ashton.

He hated it about himself, the insecurity that made him question everything between them, and although he knew, deep down, that Ashton wasn’t interested in Luke, Michael still wanted to _hear_ it.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ashton panted, pushing away from Michael to kick his pants and boxers off, his hands tugging Michael’s off as well.

Michael whimpered, pulling him back down gently to kiss him slowly. “You promise?”

“Yeah,” Ashton whispered into his mouth. “It’s _you_ , not Luke.”

Michael nodded, grinding himself against Ashton, kissing over his jaw.

“What’s with you?” Ashton asked softly, cupping his jaw. “You believe me, right?”

“Yeah,” Michael panted out. “Of course I do, I just…it makes me feel weird.”

“Because he kissed me?”

Michael nodded.

“Why?”

The realization – the _holy shit I’m in love with Ashton_ one – came shortly after they’d placed their lunch orders at the Coffee Club. He’d been thinking about the steak burger he’d ordered, and was looking forward to the mango smoothie he’d picked, too.

Ashton had got some smoked salmon thing, and Michael loved how different they were. They were probably the biggest polar opposites, but it was what worked for them. Michael loved how they could talk about anything and everything and Ashton would always listen to him, even if they’d end up in a heated debate over whatever issue they discussed.

He loved how Ashton’s hand was always on his thigh – not in a creepy way, but he just always loved to _touch –_ and Michael was finding out quickly that hand holding was the greatest thing in the world.

There was nothing he didn’t love about Ashton.

And finally, after months of being stupidly oblivious to his heart, when their food was being set in front of them and Ashton squeezed his knee, Michael knew it.

He was in love.

He’d fallen in love.

He’d wanted to tell Ashton right then and there, wanted to see his eyes and his mouth and what he’d look like when Michael said the words.

He’d held them back, though, deciding that over lunch at the Coffee Club wasn’t where he wanted to say it for the first time.

But now, lying beneath him naked and needy, Michael wanted to scream it in his face.

“You know how I feel about you,” Ashton whispered, settling against him gently. “Right?”

Michael nodded, reaching up to stroke his fingers down Ashton’s jaw. “I do know, I promise.”

“Then what?” Ashton asked, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Michael’s mouth, and then one against his bottom lip.

“I’m…I’ve…I’m kind of in love with you.”

Ashton’s mouth stopped where it was pressed against Michael’s bottom lip. In fact, his entire body froze, and Michael felt sick, instantly.

He’d fucked it up.

He’d said it too soon.

Ashton hadn’t said in over a month, hadn’t talked about it and what if that meant he’d fallen out of love with Michael already, because it had taken the younger man too long to realize his feelings?

“Ash?”

“Say it again.”

Michael blushed as Ashton pulled away, his wide, hazel eyes staring down at him. “I’m pretty sure I love you.”

Ashton smiled softly. “Pretty sure?”

Michael smiled. “Very sure. I’m just…I’m in love with you.”

Ashton laughed softly, his hand resting against Michael’s cheek. “Yeah? It’s about damn time.”

Michael laughed, lifting his head off the pillow to kiss Ashton softly. “I love everything about you, and when you told me Luke kissed you I just panicked and then we were having lunch and you looked so happy about the fucking salmon and I just _love_ you, so fucking much.”

Ashton kissed him suddenly, their mouths sliding together hotly, his tongue sliding into Michael’s mouth which muted the moan erupting out of the younger man.

They fell apart to put each other back together, the touches they exchanged full of heat and desperation and Michael wanted to beg Ashton, his legs looping around his hips to bring him closer.

“Mikey,” Ashton moaned softly, his breath coming in short pants. “Wanna make love to you.”

Michael hiccupped, one arm wrapping tightly around Ashton’s neck, kissing over his bruised lips. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Please.”

Ashton reached for the lube, his mouth never far from Michael’s, and the younger man could feel his heart slamming in his chest.

“Just,” Michael whispered softly, cupping Ashton’s jaw. “Just be quick, yeah?”

Ashton nodded, flicking open the tube of lube and was quick as he prepared Michael, kissing over his mouth from where he was on his knees, hand disappearing between Michael’s legs, fingers curled tightly inside of him.

“Ash,” Michael whispered softly. “I’m okay, yeah? Want you.”

Ashton kissed him hard, stealing Michael’s breath that left him trembling as he eased his fingers out, messily spilling lube into his hands to spread over his erection.

Michael trembled, grabbing at Ashton’s shoulders. “Please,” he begged.

Ashton’s hands were shaky, gripping Michael’s hips and tugged him roughly down the bed, moving closer to him as he guided himself between the younger man’s cheeks to slide hotly over his entrance.

“Say it,” Ashton panted.

Michael blinked up at him, his teeth closed over his bottom lip to stay quiet, but the sight of Ashton’s hazel eyes darkened with lust had him whimpering.

“Say it,” Ashton whispered again, nudging forward against Michael.

“I love you,” Michael breathed out, his fingers raking through Ashton’s messy curls.

Ashton groaned, pushing forward until he slipped inside of Michael, sliding quickly inside. “I love you, too,” he whispered once their hips were flush and he was trying not to sob with pleasure.

The words felt different as they washed over Michael, the simple expression had never meant so much. He felt _loved_ , could feel it thrumming through his veins and he almost felt not worthy of it. That Ashton would give him his heart without a second thought, trusting Michael not to break it.

It had seemed like too much in the beginning, Michael wasn’t ready to be responsible for someone else’s heart. He could barely take care of his own, but now he was ready to hand it over, the dinted, cracked symbol of his very soul was in Ashton’s hands and Michael had never felt so safe.

Everything had changed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This IT! I'm so happy this story was so loved, I think Mashton needs more attention, because it's an incredible pairing! These two are just perfect together. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read this, subscribed to it, or left kudos, and most importantly, commented. Thanks to irwah, Skagger, chunkysalsa, basiltonpitchsnow, rocketmail, Migs, CupidGenie, asickburn0ut, Wizardofoz & StardustFlames for their comments on the last chapter. 
> 
> Until next time!  
> xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> I am sooooo excited to share this with you guys! There's not a whole lot of Mashton in these first few chapters, but trust me, when it starts, you'll need to hold onto your hats!
> 
> Let me know what you think!
> 
> xoxo


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